


"A Friend in Need..."

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Case Fic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29920650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: Following the devastating news that Blair's mom Naomi has been found dead, Jim and Blair travel to San Francisco to try and discover the truth - with or without the SFPD's consent.
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	"A Friend in Need..."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Patt (PattRose)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PattRose/gifts).



> Canon divergent sometime after the ep 'Private Eyes' and before 'Crossroads', Jim and Blair are in a committed relationship, and Blair is close to finishing an alternative dissertation with a view to working with Jim in some official capacity in the future.
> 
> A gift fic for PattRose. Happy birthday, dear friend!  
> Kate x

**Part 1: An Unforeseen Tragedy:**  


**The loft, Sunday morning:**  


Sipping contentedly at a mug of fresh coffee, Jim relaxed on the sofa, idly perusing the sports section of the Sunday papers. It was good to chill out for a change, making the most of a rare weekend off as his caseload in Major Crimes had been heavy in recent weeks and he felt the need for recharging his batteries. And not only him, but his young roommate also, since Blair’s normal routine bordered on frenetic most of the time, trying to juggle his responsibilities at Rainier U with riding with his beloved sentinel whenever he was needed. True, Jim mused fondly, his guide and now lover was frequently compared to an Energiser Bunny, but even Energiser Bunnies needed recharging occasionally. 

And Jim was smugly aware that he knew exactly how to do just that, happily reliving the hours since they had both returned to the loft late on Friday evening. 

They had both pretty much been running on fumes after a long day at the end of a long week, but they had both been quietly satisfied and content for all that. They had just closed one hell of an investigation involving a murderous paedophile, and the knowledge that the evil scumbag would never see the outside of a prison cell again had been reward enough for their determined labours. And as usual, Jim had had cause to be grateful for his young guide and lover’s support throughout, both in backing him up at the various crime scenes, and also applying his unique intuition and doing background research on his own time; all of which had helped Jim to track down and arrest the perp before he could hurt another child. It was a great result, and their captain and friend, Simon Banks had been gratified enough by their combined efforts to grant Jim a long weekend. He wasn’t expected to report back for duty until Tuesday morning, and that suited him very well, since Blair had insisted that he could rearrange his own commitments in order to spend quality time with his sentinel lover. 

His pensive smile widened as he recalled their lovemaking that night. Despite their exhaustion, they had exchanged gentle touches and lingering kisses, coming together in satisfying harmony before cuddling close to enjoy a good night’s sleep. He had known that his tender-hearted guide would normally have passed another unsettled night, dwelling on the horrific scenes and sickening information he had had to confront during their investigation, so had gone out of his way to comfort and relax his lover, grateful beyond belief for having the young man in his life. And it had worked like a charm, the young man resting quietly in his arms all night, which was enough in itself to grant the sentinel his own contented repose. 

Having said that, the following morning both men were more than happy to indulge in a much more passionate coupling, and the recollection of that was enough to light a fire once again in Jim’s belly; his grin now almost predatory as perfect sentinel recall provided him with a heated action replay. Blair was by far the best bedmate he had ever had, and would ever have if he had his way. Passionate, inventive yet considerate, Blair trusted him implicitly such that there was little he wouldn’t do for Jim. Thoroughly appreciating the fact that his sentinel was a ‘take charge’ kinda guy, Blair was more than happy to accede to Jim’s desires, although when it was appropriate, he was well able to take over the driving seat when needed. 

Yes, they made a great couple, in life, love and work, and Jim couldn’t have been happier with his lot. 

Not that they were ‘out’ at the PD, however, either as sentinel and guide or as lovers. Although neither of them was ashamed of their relationship, they were both of the opinion that what went on in their bed was no one’s business but their own, and besides, why provide ammunition for the few bigots that still lingered amongst their colleagues in the force. Jim knew that Blair was far more concerned about the situation than he himself, mainly because his gentle lover was genuinely troubled by the horror stories he had heard about how gay cops were often targeted by their so-called comrades in arms, even to the extent of failing to receive timely back-up while in the field. On the other hand, Jim was much more prosaic insofar as he trusted in the integrity of enough of his colleagues to be there for him when necessary, and in his own capability under anything but the most extreme circumstances. However, for both his lover’s peace of mind and because of his own protective instincts regarding the young man’s safety he was prepared to keep their secret. After all, there was no way he wanted to see Blair become the undeserving target of a few ignorant and mean-minded cops. He had enough to deal with on a day-to-day basis since even now; despite his considerable contribution to the department; there were still those who were disapproving of his unique looks and personality, even though by now they had learned better than to verbalise their disparaging mutterings within sentinel hearing range. 

Deliberately pushing aside that disturbing train of thought, Jim’s grin grew again as he heard his lover enter the building, the young man having volunteered to venture out to get fresh croissants and Danish for a leisurely breakfast. As usual, Blair was humming cheerfully, his pleasant voice soothing to Jim’s ears, and his addictive scent enough to tantalise the sentinel’s olfactory acuity. In fact, Jim’s senses thoroughly appreciated the whole package, and happily tracked his beautiful guide’s approach. 

They had been lovers now for several months, in fact, ever since their return from the oil rig. Jim had been terrified at nearly losing his friend and guide not only through being knocked out by a falling mast, but then again through the young man’s impetuous bravery when he had dashed below to disarm the bomb that had been set to blow up the rig and everyone left on it. Watching helplessly from afar while his young partner risked his own life yet again, Jim knew that if Blair survived, he was going to screw up his nerve and tell his guide how much he meant to Jim, and damn the consequences. 

And as it happened, to his astonishment and great delight, not only did Blair survive, but he freely admitted that he felt the same way about Jim. He had only refrained from confessing his love for his sentinel because he had been certain that Jim was completely straight and he didn’t want to risk damaging what was for him the best friendship he had ever enjoyed. 

Not that they had leapt into bed the second they arrived back at the loft. Blair had shyly admitted that, despite his mostly fabricated rep as an incorrigible skirt-chaser, he was actually attracted to both men and women. However, he had mostly dated women because he felt safer making love to them, the few men he had dated never getting beyond first base on account of his fear that they get too rough. But he insisted that he trusted Jim completely to take care of him. He was just embarrassed by his virginity when it came to male / male sex. 

On the other hand, Jim had been both deeply touched by Blair’s confession and incredibly grateful for the overt trust the young man had in him. He vowed there and then that he would never give Blair cause to regret his decision. They had therefore taken it relatively slowly, at the younger man’s pace until he felt ready and able to go the whole way. 

And when Jim had finally taken him, it had been transcendental for them both. They hadn’t looked back ever since, and their lovemaking had grown in passion and expertise such that each man felt inextricably joined and melded with the other; soulmates until the end of their days. So in sync were they that although they couldn’t say that their connection was exactly telepathic, they could usually discern what the other was thinking and feeling at any given time, and frequently finished each other’s sentences, much to the amusement of their friends and colleagues. And Jim was also convinced that he would always know when his lover was in difficulty or danger; tuned in as his senses were to his guide and helpmeet at the deepest level. In addition, although he never mentioned it for fear of upsetting his gentle partner, he was equally convinced that if anything ever happened to Blair, he would soon follow, truly believing that he couldn’t – wouldn’t want to – survive without the other half of his soul. 

But now was not the time for such morbid thoughts. Blair was at the door, and already smiling in greeting as he entered, Jim grinning broadly at him and thoroughly appreciating the view. 

Fresh from the shower, Blair had offered to do the bakery run, pulling his still damp locks back in a ponytail at his nape before he left. It was now drying, and wisps of curls haloed his head and drew even more attention to his attractive face. He positively glowed with the aura of a well-loved man, and the adoration in his sparkling eyes and warm smile was for Jim alone. 

“Hey, man, look!” he crowed in satisfaction, waggling his eyebrows in pure glee as he held up the paper bag in his hand. “Fresh from the oven, lover, so don’t let them get cold!” 

Rising to his feet, Jim grinned in response, moving eagerly to the kitchen to pull out plates, silverware and napkins. “They smell wonderful, babe,” he said. “Almost as tantalising as you, Chief! Makes me wonder which to eat first! Decisions, decisions…!” 

Blair laughed aloud at that. “I think you already had me this morning, man. Don’t be greedy! You’ll spoil your appetite for fresh croissants and Mama Rosa’s special Danish.” 

Jim chuckled then, slanting his lover a smouldering glance. “OK, babe, you’ve convinced me,” he snickered. “But only because I know I can have my wicked way with you again later. 

“There’s fresh coffee in the pot, babe, and do you want butter and jelly or honey?” 

“How about all of them, Jim? After all our recent exercise, I think perhaps we can indulge a bit. Especially if we’re going out afterwards. We are still going, aren’t we?” 

Blair was referring to their plans to drive to the Cascade National Forest for some hiking, taking advantage of the unseasonably good weather. Having spent most of Saturday generally kicking back and lazily making out on the sofa in front of the TV, both men wanted to do something a little more active and outdoorsy today. 

“Sure, babe. I’m looking forward to enjoying some peace and quiet away from the city. You know how much the senses appreciate a few hours in a more natural environment away from noise and pollution. And also I get to have you all to myself,” he added with a heated glance at his now blushing lover. “If you’re very good, I might even let you do a little testing!” 

Blair grinned widely at that, his enthusiasm plain to see as he shared out the still-warm pastries onto the plates. “Sure, man, if you really don’t mind? I think it’s time you did a little more fine-tuning on the senses, and we might as well make the most of the opportunity. We’ve been way too busy of late, and I feel as if I’ve been neglecting my duty.” 

“Not your fault, babe,” Jim replied. “And I’m not doing so badly as long as you’re with me. But you know,” he continued pensively, “I still worry that you lost out by your decision not to go forward with the ‘Sentinel diss’ after all, even if I’m more than grateful for your choice. I know you’ll do just fine with the ‘closed societies’ paper, but is it truly what you want?” 

Blair smiled softly then, and reached over to grasp Jim’s hand in his. “I’m fine, Jim. Use our connection, man. You can tell I’m more than OK with my decision. I’ve collected plenty of data for the real diss, it’s coming along just fine and I should be able to submit very soon now. And I’m still writing about you after all, aren’t I? Just because it’s for your personal consumption now doesn’t mean I’m not getting my own pleasure out of it. And I get to study my very own sentinel lover too. What’s not to like?” 

Jim nodded then, relieved to hear his lover’s honest reply. He knew that Blair meant every word, but sometimes the slightly more insecure part of Jim’s persona needed to have the message reinforced. 

“Fair enough, babe. So. Let’s eat, and then we’re out of here!” 

And with their quiet harmony restored, they tucked into their breakfast, both looking forward to their upcoming trip to the woods.   


\-------------------------  


**Later that evening:**  


Much later that evening, two weary men arrived back at the loft, but neither of them was complaining. It was the satisfying weariness arising from thoroughly enjoyable physical exertion rather than the bone-deep fatigue of mind and body that followed long days of soul-destroying investigation, and now they were both looking forward to a relaxing evening in together. The weather had remained kind, and Blair had looked on with both love and relief as Jim visibly relaxed in the natural environment of the National Forest; the sentinel’s senses basking not only in the presence of his beloved guide, but also in the unpolluted sights, sounds and scents of the great outdoors. They had hiked on trails well away from other visitors, relishing the peace and solitude, Jim even submitting to various tests with little complaint, as he knew only too well that Blair only had his welfare at heart. He had long ago accepted that his lover and guide had never considered him to be a lab rat, even if Jim had felt that way to begin with, and although he knew that Blair would be disappointed if he didn’t make some sort of token protest, they were both also aware that it was for just show and expected of him. 

“Hey, babe, I know you offered to do a stir fry for dinner, but how about we order in some Thai instead?” 

Blair tilted his head and raised a quizzical eyebrow at Jim’s remark, a smile tugging at his generous mouth as he contemplated the suggestion. “Are you sure, lover? I mean, that’d be great if it’s what you want, ‘cos I do admit that I’m pretty much bushed. But I’m still up for a simple stir fry if not.” 

Jim reached out and pulled the smaller man into a hug as he grinned down into the upturned face. “Sure I’m sure, babe,” he murmured. “Not that I don’t appreciate your cooking, Chief. You know I do. But I want to spoil you a bit, OK? And while we’re waiting for it to be delivered, we can shower and change into something more comfortable,” and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively as Blair giggled happily. 

“OK, man, you’re on!” came the cheerful reply, and Jim dropped a kiss on the end of Blair’s nose as he released his armful and reached for the handful of takeout menus in the kitchen drawer. 

“How ‘bout you have the first shower while I call in the order then, babe. Shall I just get a selection of dishes?” 

As Blair nodded in satisfied agreement, Jim picked up the cordless and speed dialled their favourite Thai takeout restaurant, thoroughly appreciating the cheeky striptease Blair was treating him to as his young lover sashayed temptingly towards the bathroom. 

Within a very few minutes, Jim had joined his little tease of a partner in the steamy heat of a very satisfying shared shower, and by the time their food was delivered, they were clean, relaxed and changed into comfortable sweats. 

The outdoor activity had given both men good appetites; even the sometimes self-negligent Blair; so they made short work of the delicious dishes. After cleaning up after themselves and disposing of the cartons in the trash, they settled down on the sofa, comfortably entwined in each other’s arms as they paid minimal attention to the Jags match on the TV. The greater part of their concentration was on each other, and Blair chuckled throatily as Jim nibbled at his neck. 

“You still hungry, lover?” he snickered, knowing that Jim would be easily able to read his physical responses. 

“Sure am,” his big lover murmured between nibbles and licks. “I’m just about to enjoy my dessert!” 

Blair moaned at that, suddenly needy and hot for more. “Can we take this upstairs, Jim? Need you man,” he gasped, expression sultry as he shifted in Jim’s arms to look pleadingly up into the bigger man’s heated blue gaze. 

Jim didn’t need asking twice, and he growled his assent even as he surged to his feet, pulling Blair up with him. “You got it, babe,” he answered, the desire in his almost predatory gaze sending shivers of delightful anticipation up and down Blair’s spine. “You go on up, and I’ll lock up down here. Won’t be a minute, babe, promise!” 

As Blair moved quickly towards the stairs to do Jim’s bidding, he knew he wouldn’t be kept waiting long. His own smile was wide and bright, and he knew that he was in for a wild ride. And he couldn’t have been happier at the prospect.   


\-------------------------  


**Monday morning, the loft:**  


Even though he had woken at his usual time, Jim was in no hurry to dislodge his armful of cosy Blair-blanket seeing as he had the day off. He knew that Blair was going to have to go in to the U later that morning for a lecture he couldn’t get out of, but apart from that, they had the best part of the day together again, and Jim intended to take full advantage of the rare treat. With plenty of time yet before they needed to move, Jim was content to thoroughly indulge himself in watching over his young lover as he slept on, his senses humming along nicely as they wrapped around the compact body, greedily soaking up his grounding presence. 

Their lovemaking last night had been every bit as passionate and mutually satisfying as expected, Blair giving himself up unreservedly to Jim’s desire, and a thoroughly appreciative sentinel had made very sure that the young man had been more than amply rewarded for the gift of his selfless adoration. Jim smiled smugly to himself as he recalled Blair’s passionate cries, the images heating his own need once more as he scented the curly head resting on his chest. 

By carefully shifting the warm body upwards a little, he was able to sniff deeply at the spot behind Blair’s ear where his addictive scent was strongest, and almost growled at the sensation of the silky-smooth skin beneath his hands as he stroked his lover’s back and buttocks with a barely-there sentinel touch. It was so very tempting to simply roll his guide beneath him and have his wicked way with him then and there, but he controlled the urge with no little difficulty, knowing that Blair deserved to enjoy as much undisturbed sleep as he could get. 

However, his patience was rewarded far sooner than he had expected, as tiny snuffles and twitches heralded Blair’s slow rise towards consciousness. And when a tousled head lifted a little to peer myopically up into his grinning face, Jim couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on the end of his guide’s nose as he murmured, “Morning, babe. Sleep well?” 

He knew the question was pretty much rhetorical, as his well-loved partner had slept deeply and undisturbed all night in Jim’s arms, but he just wanted to make sure. 

Blair yawned widely then blinked a few times before answering, his voice raspy from sleep. “Mmmm, yeah. Yeah, I did, man, thanks t’ you. Izz’t time to get up yet?” The plaintive whine in his tone made Jim grin fondly as he ruffled the already messy curls. 

“You can have a bit longer lie in if you want, babe,” he chuckled. “You don’t have to leave until 0900 hours, do you?” 

“’F you mean 9.00 a.m., then no, I don’t,” his increasingly alert lover snipped cheekily, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “You military types really should learn to tell the time like the rest of us mere mortals!” 

Of course he knew what Jim’s response would be, and he wasn’t disappointed. 

“Why, you cheeky brat!” Jim laughed, grabbing the smaller man around the waist. “Just for that, I’m going to have to punish you!” and he rolled Blair under him as he proceeded to tickle the squirming body mercilessly until a laughing Blair cried, “Uncle! UNCLE! Stop, Jim! Enough!” 

Ceasing immediately, Jim propped his weight on his elbows as he grinned down into the flushed face below him. And when Blair deliberately licked his full lips, he was only too happy to accept the tacit invitation. Focussed on his target, his gaze now heated and intent, he lowered his face until he could take those succulent lips in a kiss, which became more and more demanding as both men’s passion grew. 

Seemed like they weren’t quite ready to get up after all. At least, not out of their bed.   


\--------------------------  


**Later that morning, Blair’s office, Rainier University:**  


Smiling contentedly, Blair stuffed his backpack with the items he would need before leaving for the day, his lecture having gone smoothly as per usual even though it would never have occurred to him to feel in the least bit smug about his performance. Ever self-effacing, the fact that he was such a popular and successful teacher in the eyes of the vast majority of his students never really gave him pause for thought. It was simply a fact that it was completely in character for him to put as much effort into his work and his studies of which he was capable. 

Just as he put everything he could into helping and supporting – and loving – his sentinel. 

For sure it often left him feeling like he was chasing his own tail, trying to fit all of his various responsibilities into what seemed to be an ever-decreasing number of hours in the day, but he wouldn’t have changed anything about his present situation now he had concrete goals to aim for. With the first draft of his dissertation virtually finished, and its submission expected within the near future, all being well he would be able to put his doctorate to good use – providing he succeeded, that was. 

Because it had to be said that despite the respect and complete faith Jim and his peers had in him and his outstanding academic record, he was still lacking in self-confidence such that he didn’t have the arrogance to believe that it was a done deal. 

Then again, he had always been an optimist, so tried hard not to let his insecurities rule him, especially now he had the very best cheerleader in Jim. And at that thought, his grin grew wider, the prospect of seeing his lover again soon boosting his happiness even more. Jim had suggested that they go out to dinner this evening for a treat, since they might as well make the most of this rare opportunity provided by his unexpected day off, and even though Blair did have some grading to do at some point, he was sure that it wouldn’t impinge too much on their time together. 

Shoving his beloved laptop and the last of the blue books into his pack, Blair turned to go, glancing around his office as he did so, and smiling again in satisfaction as he took in his surroundings. It might not be much, but it was a comfortable space which he was grateful to have been offered. A proper, official office as oppose to the cramped space he had shared with the many and varied items in Artefact Storage Room 3, although it had to be said that he had fond feelings where that tiny, cluttered area was concerned. Because after all, wasn’t that where he first had the opportunity to confront his sentinel – not counting his cheeky impersonation of a physician in the hospital where Jim had gone for testing and consultation – and where he had been able to introduce the confused and hurting cop to the whole ‘Sentinel’ phenomenon. 

And in retrospect, it had to be said that Blair could never deny the thrill he had felt despite his fleeting fear when Jim had thrown him up against the wall. 

His smile becoming a self-satisfied smirk as he considered how their relationship had developed since then, he locked up behind him and headed out for the parking lot, already eagerly anticipating his arrival at 852 Prospect and an afternoon and evening spent with Jim.  


\-----------------------------  


**Meanwhile, back in #307:**  


Jim stood back, hands on hips and a self-satisfied grin on his face as he admired his handiwork. The kitchen was pristine; cleaned to within an inch of its life; and was now up to even sentinel-perfect standards. His grin became a wry smirk when he imagined his lover’s likely gently mocking comments, but it didn’t trouble him. Blair was never going to achieve that level of sterile cleanliness even if he tried, which he didn’t, knowing that his efforts would never satisfy sentinel standards. Not that he wasn’t appreciative of Jim’s single-minded perfection; it was just that he didn’t feel the need from his own point of view. Having said that, since he moved into the loft and listened open-mouthed to Jim’s list of House Rules, he had made an effort to change his ways, knowing that at heart he was a bit of a slob. But when all was said and done, Jim loved his little scruff of a roomie, wet towels on the bathroom floor and hair in the drains notwithstanding, and by now wouldn’t change him for the world. 

Deciding that he deserved to relax for a while with a fresh mug of coffee and a flick through the news channels, he made himself comfortable on the sofa and reached for the remote, his mind mostly occupied with his and Blair’s upcoming evening out. Jim had made reservations at Blair’s favourite Italian restaurant, Benedetto’s, and he couldn’t help but anticipate the young man’s pleasure at the treat. In both men’s minds it would be more like a proper date, and the chance to enjoy themselves ‘on the town’, so to speak, would only be enhanced if they could actually show their love for each other in public. However, sad to say open PDAs weren’t an option yet; at least not as far as Blair was concerned; and Jim had to accept the fact that his guide was still terrified on Jim’s behalf for his safety on the job. 

Then again, Jim fully intended to make up for it once they were back home again, certain that the evening would be a memorable one after all. 

Just then, the telephone rang, and Jim frowned as he reached for the cordless handset, hoping that it wasn’t Blair calling to say that he was going to be delayed. However, the caller ID wasn’t a number Jim recognised, so his answer was his usual abrupt one. “Ellison!” 

And he couldn’t have been more surprised at the response. 

“Um, Detective Ellison? I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I called the PD and they said you had a day off. Um, is it possible to speak to Blair? I didn’t have a number for him, and hoped you’d know where I could find him.” 

“Who is this?” Jim snapped irritably, “And what’s this about?” 

“I’m sorry, Detective. It’s Charlie Spring here. Do you remember me? I am - was - a friend of Naomi’s….” The man’s tone was plainly troubled and Jim instinctively braced himself for bad news. He recalled the small, excitable self-proclaimed psychic only too well, but although he could hardly say that they parted on bad terms, he had no real desire to reacquaint himself with the man. But then again, if it was something to do with Naomi, he needed to know, for Blair’s sake if nothing else. 

“Yes, Charlie, I remember you. Is this about Naomi? Because you can tell me. Blair’s at the U at the moment, but he still lives here. He’s my partner.” There was no need to elaborate, because he couldn’t actually care less if Charlie assumed the obvious. He just needed to hear what the man had to say. 

“Yes, Detective, I’m sorry to say that it is. Er, I’m in San Francisco at the moment. Naomi and I travelled here together last week to attend a conference on the paranormal, you know? I was invited to speak at a seminar, and Naomi came along to support me. But once my part at the conference was over, she decided to go and look up some of her old friends from her time in the Haight-Ashbury district. And I’m sorry to say that I didn’t particularly want to go, so she went alone. And I didn’t even give it a thought until she didn’t return to our hotel as arranged. I mean, she’s always been so independent. So sure of herself, you know? Ah, that was Saturday, by the way. 

“But by Sunday I was really worried. Started calling around her friends to see if they knew where she was, but no one knew anything. They all said they’d never seen her! So I decided to call the police and put in a Missing Person report. And of course they said it was too early to act, but would ‘look into it’ if she failed to turn up. 

“And then I had a hit. I know you’re sceptical about my ‘gift’, Jim. May I call you Jim? But I knew. I just knew she was in trouble, and an hour later the police contacted me at the hotel and told me they’d found a body in the bay. 

“Oh, god, Jim! It was Naomi. I identified her this morning. Blair’s going to be so hurt…” 

Charlie’s voice choked up then, and Jim was certain he was crying, and could hardly blame him for that. He felt close to tears himself, and if it was more on behalf of how his lover was going to react to the news than on his own, it made no difference. However, now wasn’t the time to wallow in grief, so he forced himself to go into business-like cop-mode. 

“Thanks, Charlie, for explaining what you know so far. Blair should be back shortly, so I’ll break the news to him, and then get back to you. I’m sure he – we _both_ – will want to come to San Fran a.s.a.p., so if you leave me a number and the address of your hotel, I’ll get back to you as soon as I have the details, OK? I’ll need to clear it with my boss, but whatever he says, we’ll be there.” 

“Th…thank you, Jim. I really appreciate it, detective. I’m staying at the Howard Johnson near the Piers, room 462, and my cell number is 555 697 3835. I’ll wait for your call,” and he rang off, clearly too upset to continue. 

Jim stared numbly at the handset clutched in his fist for a long moment, thoroughly shaken and lost in his tumbling thoughts and emotions. However, he belatedly realised that he could hear a key in the lock, and he shook himself determinedly out of his temporary funk. 

Blair was home, and the goddess only knew how he was going to break the dreadful news to his beloved guide.   


**Part 2: The Need to Know:**  


**Later that evening, the loft:**  


Two distressed but eerily quiet men sat pressed closely together on the sofa, wrapped in their own thoughts while taking comfort in the other’s presence. Blair’s tear-streaked, devastated face was buried in the crook of Jim’s neck and shoulder, his breathing still hitching occasionally as he fought to contain the tears which still wanted to fall. He knew that he was in shock, and that the reality of the terrible situation hadn’t yet impacted fully on his consciousness, but was also well aware that by the time he and Jim arrived in San Fran he would be forced to confront the cold, hard fact that his beloved mom was no more. 

All thoughts of his and Jim’s planned night out had disappeared the instant he had entered the loft to see the expression on the face Jim turned to greet his arrival. His lover’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and the sympathy and real concern were clear to see on his normally stoic features. 

“What is it? What’s up, Jim?” he had stammered out, moving quickly to be enveloped in the powerful arms Jim held out to him. 

“Jesus, Chief, this is going to be so hard to say. For you to hear, honey. Come and sit down, OK?” and Jim had gently but firmly guided him to the sofa, pulling him down almost onto his lover’s lap. 

“Please, Jim, tell me! Don’t keep me waiting. Is it your family? Simon? Daryl…?” He knew he hadn’t had the nerve then to even mention his mom, as if naming her would make any disaster real. 

“No, baby, none of those,” Jim had murmured, cupping Blair’s heated face in gentle palms and holding his desperate gaze. “Charlie Spring just called from San Francisco, baby. There’s no easy way to say this, but Naomi has been found dead, baby. I don’t know any other details yet, but I was about to call Simon and tell him we’ll be going there as soon as I can book a flight, OK?” 

He had paused then, trying to read Blair’s expression and reaction, obviously concerned at Blair’s sudden stillness. “You OK, baby? Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

Blair had frowned then, the anger and denial on his face clear to see. “How do you know it’s really Naomi, Jim? Just because Charlie says so? He could be mistaken, Jim. Mistaken identity, you know? Happens all the time, doesn’t it?” He had pleaded then, pleaded for Jim to agree with him, to agree that it wasn’t his vital, beautiful mother lying cold and still on some mortuary slab somewhere. 

But by the look on Jim’s face, he had known he wasn’t about to convince his lover of his desperate hopes. The pragmatic cop in Jim was already taking over, and the truth had crashed down then to utterly crush Blair’s naïve and unrealistic optimism. 

Held in Jim’s comforting arms, he still didn’t want to admit it, but by now he was more or less convinced of the awful truth, and he just needed to see his mother’s body to confirm one of his worst nightmares – one which could only be topped by the dreadful possibility that Jim should be similarly lost to him. 

_Oh, goddess! I can’t bear it…_ and his silent tears fell again. 

As for Jim, he felt the moisture of Blair’s fresh tears warm against the skin of his neck, and he silently squeezed the smaller body in his arms, rocking slightly in an effort to comfort his devastated lover. He was well aware that they would have little sleep that night, but that was only to be expected. And after all, they would be leaving at the crack of dawn anyway to get to the airport for their flight to San Fran, the 0830 flight being the first available one Jim had been able to book earlier that afternoon. Even though he empathised with his young lover’s trembling sorrow and bitter pain, automatically offering what physical support he could, he was also running through their plans in his head, needing to reassure himself that he hadn’t forgotten anything crucial. His hurting and distracted guide would be relying on him to deal with logistics and other necessary mundanities, and there was no way Jim would let him down. His young partner had come through for him so many times, it was only right that he should reciprocate, and in truth it was no burden to do so. 

Once he had managed to deliver his awful news to Blair, and the worst of his lover’s initial reaction and automatic denial had been weathered, he had settled Blair as best he could while he dealt with the practicalities of their course of action. He had called in to Major Crimes and spoken to Simon, succinctly explaining the situation and telling rather than asking his friend and boss that he would be taking time off to accompany Blair to San Fran. And in truth, the good friend in Simon hadn’t even quibbled, only telling Jim to offer Blair his deepest condolences and to request that Jim keep him updated on their progress once they reached their destination. And furthermore, he had told Jim that he would be more than happy to offer whatever information or assistance he could should it turn out to be a criminal investigation after all. Neither man wanted to verbalise it, but as cynical, realistic veteran cops, and knowing the deceased personally, they both recognised that foul play was very likely to be suspected. Not that Jim was going to mention that possibility to Blair yet. That his mother might have been murdered was too much for the young man to take in unless or until forced to confront that brutal concept, and there was still an outside chance that Naomi’s death was a terrible accident. It wouldn’t make her loss any easier to bear, but at least there wouldn’t be the painful knowledge that someone somewhere had deliberately snuffed out her life for whatever inconceivable reason. 

After speaking to Simon, Jim had immediately begun contacting the airlines to get tickets for the earliest possible flight out. And once he had confirmed their booking, he had taken it upon himself to contact Blair’s Head of Department at Rainier to explain the situation to him. His news had been received with quiet but sincere sympathy and understanding, Dr Rothschild assuring him that Blair’s classes would be covered for as long as needed. 

That done, there were the more mundane tasks to tackle, such as packing a bag for each of them, and then trying to get his shaky partner to actually eat something. That in itself had been no easy task, the young man declaring that he wasn’t hungry, so Jim had had to resort to dirty tricks to get his way; playing on Blair’s concern for his sentinel by saying that it would reassure Jim if his guide would eat a little something to please him. The scheme had worked up to a point, and he had managed to get a bowl of soup and half a sandwich down his lover before Blair pushed back from the table saying he had had enough. 

With everything dealt with as far as possible, now they just sat together in the silence of the darkening loft, drawing what comfort they could from one another until retiring to bed for a few hours to hopefully get at least a little rest even if neither man was likely to actually sleep.  


\------------------------  


**Early the following morning:**  


Dawn the next day found two sleep-deprived and solemn men up and ready and waiting for the cab Jim had booked to take them to the airport. Jim’s heart ached for his young lover, whose red-rimmed eyes were ringed with shadows like bruises, and looked too large for his drawn and pale face. Blair’s demeanour was unnaturally listless; his shoulders slumped in defeat; and so far removed from his hyper-active guide and partner as to be barely recognisable. They had spent the night in each other’s arms, neither of them getting much in the way of actual sleep, with a desperately sympathetic Jim unable to do more than hold his lover throughout the long, seemingly interminable hours of darkness, cuddling and whispering soothing words at each recurrence of Blair’s heart-breakingly silent, intermittent tears. There was little point in continuing to lie in bed, waiting for sleep that never came, so by mutual, tacit agreement they finally got up and grabbed a quick shower before sitting together with a mug of coffee; barely aware of the dawn breaking in golden splendour over the bay; their luggage already in place by the door. 

Respecting his lover’s introspective silence, Jim refrained from even trying to have any sort of conversation, knowing that Blair was totally lost in his own thoughts and didn’t need redundant prattle. He knew that Jim was there for him, and appreciated the big cop’s tactfulness and consideration more than he could say, but for the present, words were beyond him. Instead, he just leaned into Jim’s freely-offered and comforting warmth, gratefully allowing the bigger man’s solid presence and quiet affection to drive away a little of the icy despair that was presently gripping his heart. 

Eventually, however, Jim gave his lover’s shoulders a little squeeze, his head cocked in a listening pose. Gently prising Blair’s half-empty mug from his hand, he murmured, “I think the cab’s just turned into Prospect, babe, so let’s get ready to go, huh?” and as Blair blinked up at him, momentarily distracted from his introspection, he took both mugs to the kitchen, quickly rinsing them out and putting them away before doing a swift, visual check around the apartment. 

By the time the cab driver was announcing himself at the door, both men were ready and waiting, torn between an eagerness to be on their way and an equal dread of what they were likely to encounter on their arrival.  


\----------------------------  


In retrospect, Blair would remember very little of the flight to San Francisco. It wasn’t very long anyway, and it seemed to both men that more time was taken up with checking in and waiting for the call to board than the flight itself. Since his mind was preoccupied with his pain and fearful trepidation of what was awaiting him at the other end, even his usual anxiety about flying had taken a back seat. All he was really aware of was the reassuring presence and undemanding support of his lover, who had taken charge and was totally focussed on protecting and comforting his hurting and uncharacteristically fragile guide. Having secured two seats in the exit row, Jim had eased Blair into the window seat, and used his own bulk to shield his lover as best he could from any unwanted interest from their fellow travellers. 

In truth there had been one or two disdainful glances directed at the apparently mismatched couple, especially as Jim had pulled Blair into his side as soon as the seatbelt signs had been switched off and he was able to raise the armrest between them, but an ice-cold, predatory glare from the uber-protective sentinel was enough to deter further interest. 

Although Blair still had no appetite, Jim did succumb to temptation and bought a few in-flight snacks to keep him going, and both men enjoyed a cup of surprisingly good fresh coffee. By the time they had finished their drinks, the pilot was making his final approach and the seatbelt signs had been turned on. Blair offered Jim a shaky smile, even though it didn’t reach his mournful eyes. 

“Thanks for arranging all this, man. I…I don’t think I’ve been much use, have I? I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate your support, Jim. I don’t think I could have dealt with this by myself.” 

Jim smiled softly as he squeezed the smaller hand gripping the armrest between them. “It’s no trouble, baby, honestly. And I know you would have coped somehow if you had to. But I _want_ to be here for you, just like you’ve been there for me so many times. We’ll get through this together, Chief. Partners, OK?” 

Blair’s grin was a little warmer then as he twined his fingers with Jim’s. “Thanks, Jim. Love you, man,” and then the plane touched down, and harsh reality broke once again into their brief moment of peace.   


\------------------------  


Once the pair had deplaned and having brought carry-on luggage only, there was no need to linger in the airport terminal. They therefore headed straight for the exit and the waiting cab ranks, intending to get to the hotel as soon as possible. Jim had had the forethought to book a room at the same Howard Johnson as had Charlie and Naomi, his intention to meet with Naomi’s friend and pump him for as much information as possible. And then there was the distressing but necessary task of viewing the body to undergo, and the gods only knew how Blair was going to deal with that. As yet they didn’t know whether the autopsy had been carried out, but if so, they needed to know what the verdict was since both men were well aware that, if it was for anything other than accidental death, they would be dealing with the local police too. And even though it was out of his jurisdiction, Jim was quietly determined to do whatever he had to to help bring Naomi’s killer to justice. 

As the cab made its way from the airport through the city towards the Piers and their hotel, Jim couldn’t help but watch his young lover worriedly. Under normal circumstances Blair would be almost bouncing in his seat, pointing out interesting landmarks and almost certainly treating Jim to an entertaining and knowledgeable running commentary as they went. He was more familiar with the city than Jim, having lived there on and off for brief periods during his peripatetic childhood, it being a favourite destination for Naomi in between her many and varied global travels. As far as Blair knew, he might have actually been born here, but Naomi had always been pretty vague on such details. However, now Blair stared sightlessly out of the cab’s side window, his mind on anything but his surroundings, although he maintained his grip on the hand Jim offered him. And if the cab driver noticed the hand-holding, hell, it was San Fran after all, so who cared? 

On arrival at the hotel, Jim paid for the cab with a brief word of thanks and a generous tip, then ushered his distracted partner through the automatic sliding doors into the lobby. Blair remained virtually on autopilot while Jim got them checked in to their second floor room, then both men made their way towards the elevators, eschewing the services of the porters since they only had two small, wheeled cases anyway, and Blair didn’t need any unnecessary outside contact. It was only when they reached their floor and Jim had opened the door to #262 that the younger man roused a little, looking about him with a spark of interest. 

“Um, this is nice, Jim,” he murmured, taking in the Super King-sized bed, above-average if generic furnishings, well-stocked minibar and large, luxurious bathroom. Wandering over to the large picture window he noted that the view out over the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge was pretty spectacular despite the lingering mist that was so much a part of the city’s character. As Jim moved over to join him, throwing an arm around his lover’s shoulders, the bigger man smiled gently at the soft comment. 

“Yeah, well, I thought that we might as well be comfortable, babe. I didn’t really want for us to rough it in some cheap motel somewhere. 

“And it’s convenient too,” he added sadly, knowing that his love would understand where he was coming from. To be in the same hotel as Charlie, and where Naomi had stayed would make it far easier to glean whatever information they could as regards her last hours. 

Blair faced him then, his eyes brimming again and his smile watery, but grateful for all that. “Thanks, Jim. I know you’re right, and I appreciate it, I really do. It’s just…it’s just that I can’t get my head around the fact that I won’t be meeting her here, you know?” and his voice broke as slow tears began to slide down his cheeks again. And there was nothing else Jim could do but take the smaller body into his arms again, cuddling him close until Blair could get himself back under some sort of control. 

As Blair pushed back a bit, his glance more than a little bashful as he peeked up from beneath wet lashes, he sniffed as he muttered thickly, “Gods, I’m sorry, Jim. I’m behaving like a real wuss, I know. You must be getting so fed up with me – and all the wet patches on your shirts!” he added with a brave attempt at wry humour. 

Reaching up to cup the wet and faintly bearded cheeks in both palms, Jim replied firmly, “Don’t ever apologise for tears, baby. You’ve just lost the most important person in your life, Chief. Your closest relative, and one who you loved deeply. And who loved you too. Cut yourself some slack, and grieve in whatever way you need.” 

Blair gazed at him for a long moment, plainly considering Jim’s words, and then he reached up to place his palms over Jim’s hands as he said, “Thanks, Jim. You’re so good to me, and you say all the right things when I need to hear them. 

“But Naomi isn’t the only person who is – was – important to me. I don’t yet know how I’m going to get over her loss, if I ever can. But if I was to lose you, Jim, I would be lost indeed. Believe me, man. I couldn’t go on without you!” 

Shaken to the core, all Jim could do for a minute or two was try and swallow the lump of emotion threatening to choke him. He had reconciled himself already to the notion that if anything happened to Blair he wouldn’t go on, but to have his young lover make the same declaration was both unexpected and overwhelming. 

“Don’t say that, babe,” he managed to stutter out eventually. “I don’t want to think of you following me prematurely. You have your whole life ahead of you, with or without me, and I want to think of you living it to the full.” 

Blair smiled sadly then, but his response was adamant. “Not going to happen, Big Guy, so I guess we’ll just have to make sure we both live for years and years, huh?” 

And there was really no answer to that, so Jim just shook his head in fond exasperation and pulled his guide into his arms again.   


\-----------------------  


Although both men were impatient to follow up on their meeting with Charlie as soon as possible, a quick but thorough scan of his lover informed Jim that Blair needed something to eat, whether the young man accepted it or not. He had had nothing since the soup and half sandwich yesterday afternoon, and there was no way Jim was going to allow his guide to flake out from lack of sustenance on his watch. He was feeling pretty hungry himself, having only had the on-board snacks rather than a decent breakfast. Therefore, despite Blair’s petulant scowl, he called down to room service and ordered sandwiches and fresh coffee, insisting that they both have something under their belts before setting out on what was sure to be a gruelling agenda for the rest of the day. 

Once the food had arrived, Blair made it very obvious that he was only complying with Jim’s wishes with the greatest reluctance, and remained obstinately silent and sulky throughout the uncomfortable meal. Jim honestly understood where his lover was coming from; knowing that the young man was desperate to follow up on whatever information they could gather from Charlie to begin with, but he was only human, and his hard-won and rigidly-controlled patience was wearing thin. Just because he might well predict and forgive Blair’s uncharacteristic pissy attitude under such dire circumstances, he still found himself counting slowly to ten a number of times before he had finished up his meal, and the young man had forced down enough to satisfy sentinel mother hen instincts. 

However, once they had cleared up and put the tray outside the door for collection, Blair visibly deflated with a sigh and turned a mournful and apologetic gaze on his bigger partner. 

“I’m sorry, Jim. I know I’m being a shit, and I honestly appreciate everything you’re trying to do for me. I shouldn’t be taking my pissy out on you of all people. It’s just that…I need to _do_ something, man! It’s doing my head in not knowing what happened. How m…mom died. 

“Forgive me?” 

And what else could Jim do but take his trembling and tearful partner into his arms again, murmuring, “I know, babe, I know! And I’m not taking it personally, love. These are extraordinary circumstances, and it’s hardly surprising you’re finding it so hard to deal with. Hell, babe, _I’m_ finding it hard, so how much worse it must be for you! 

“But we’ll get through this, Blair, I promise. It might not feel like it right now, but we will. And I promise I’ll be with you all the way!” 

He felt Blair nod against his chest, and then the young man pushed away. “Thanks, Jim. Again. You’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. But can we go now? Please?” 

“Yes, babe, we can. I’ll call Charlie’s room and make sure he’s there, but if he can’t see us right now, we’ll call the coroner’s office, OK? Arrange to…you know…?” 

And Blair did know, only too well. He had to see Naomi. Had to, just to confirm what he so didn’t want to believe. That his beautiful mother really was dead. 

Obstinately blinking back yet more tears, he took a deep, fortifying breath, and straightened his shoulders; his courage and resolution enough to elicit a surge of protective love and renewed admiration in his lover. “OK, Jim. I’m good to go. Or as good as I ever shall be!” 

Jim nodded sadly as he dropped a kiss on the wide brow, and turned to pick up the phone to call Charlie’s room. The small psychic answered on the second ring, his tone both eager and anxious as he agreed to meet with the pair immediately, and it was obvious to Jim that Charlie was also profoundly grateful for their presence.  


\-------------------------  


**Shortly afterwards, in Charlie Spring’s hotel room:**  


Once Jim and Blair had taken the elevator to the 4th floor, and announced their arrival at #462, the door was thrown open and they were ushered in by its eager occupant. Charlie was fairly humming with pent-up nervous energy, and although his face was pale and drawn, his expression clearly telegraphed his genuine relief at seeing them. As soon as they were inside, Charlie virtually threw himself at Blair to enfold him in a spontaneous hug, while offering his sincere condolences and bewailing their mutual loss. Blair could do no more than hug him back, knowing that the little man had truly cared for his mom, and that his pain was just as valid. Not only that, but witnessing the older man’s grief also served to distract him a little from his own suffering, his gentle soul always inclined to put other’s hurt and needs before his own. 

However, when it was Jim’s turn, he stepped back a little, having been the unwilling recipient of a Charlie hug the last time they had met, and not particularly comfortable with enduring a repeat performance. He therefore smiled and politely held out his hand in greeting, gently forestalling the little man without insulting him or hurting his feelings. 

Greetings over, Charlie offered them a seat, and once they were settled side by side on the room’s small sofa, he took the easy chair opposite and fixed them both with an intent gaze. 

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you both,” he began without preamble. “It’s been hellish here, trying to do what I can, but I know it’s not been enough. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am also. It’s completely knocked me off my feet, so God knows what it must be like for you, Blair. I’m so very sorry, son, truly. 

“So, where would you like me to start? I’ll tell you whatever I can.” 

Jim nodded then, gratified to see that Charlie was determined to cooperate with them as fully as possible. Sending Blair a quick, reassuring smile, he turned to meet Charlie’s gaze again. 

“How about from the beginning, Charlie? From when you and Naomi arrived? I think we need to know everything you can think of, even before Naomi left to meet those friends. And after that, if you can give us any details of those same friends, we’d be grateful. Just in case we want to do a bit of checking up ourselves, if you know what I mean.” 

He could tell by the expression on Charlie’s face that the other man knew exactly what he was getting at, his quick intelligence sparking in his eyes as he nodded in response. 

“Of course, Jim, Blair. And I have to say that, if it becomes necessary, I have a deal more faith in your investigative expertise than the local variety. Perhaps I’m being overly cynical, but it seems to me that the officers I spoke to weren’t particularly impressed with what I had to tell them. Or at least, that was the impression they left me with. Especially when they learned my reason for being here!” he added sourly. 

“So, to begin at the beginning, Naomi and I arrived here last Tuesday morning, and checked in at the hotel at 2.00 pm after having some lunch. We had adjoining rooms,” he continued with a faint blush. “Um, hers was through that door there,” and he indicated the door in question. “At the moment it’s still sealed, awaiting the result of the autopsy, I suppose. Just in case it is a homicide investigation,” he murmured almost _sotto voce_ , the pain in his eyes clear to see. 

However, he shook himself and gamely continued, filling his visitors in with as much detail as possible. 

According to Charlie, he and Naomi had spent the rest of Tuesday sight-seeing and generally relaxing after checking out the venue for the paranormal conference. Once Charlie had located the room assigned to him for his seminar, and had verified the timetable, they had had dinner at one of Naomi’s favourite restaurants and then retired for the night. And there was no reason for either Jim or Blair to ask whether or not the pair had shared the same bed. 

Early Wednesday morning, they had breakfasted together and left for the conference as Charlie needed to be there for the morning session, and Naomi wanted to look around some of the many stalls offering all manner of esoteric wares. She had, of course, sat in on Charlie’s talk as promised, and then they had attended a couple of other sessions and practical demonstrations before leaving for the day and spending the evening in China Town. 

On Thursday morning Naomi announced that she had been contacted by one of her old friends in the Haight-Ashbury district, who had asked her to visit for a while, so she had left Charlie to spend a little more time at the conference while she packed an overnight bag and set out after assuring Charlie that she would be back at the hotel by Saturday morning at the latest. 

And that was the last time he had seen her alive. 

The conference wound up on Friday morning, and Charlie had spent the rest of the day wandering around the Piers. He hadn’t received any calls from Naomi, but didn’t really expect one, only getting concerned when she didn’t reappear as arranged on the Saturday morning. They had intended to check out on Sunday and travel together to Napa Valley’s wine country for a few days, and as Charlie knew how much she had been looking forward to that, he was all the more worried when she didn’t turn up. And as he had explained to Jim earlier, he had phoned the friends Naomi had been intending to visit, and they confirmed that she hadn’t arrived. And when he got what he described as a ‘hit’, he was positive that there was something very wrong and had called the police. Who gave him pretty short shrift by all accounts. He had been getting more and more frantic with worry when they called back and he was told about the body found in the bay. 

The body he had since identified as Naomi. 

By the time Charlie had finished his recitation, silent tears were rolling unchecked down Blair’s pale cheeks, while Charlie himself was in little better shape. Even the factual description, delivered without dramatics and unnecessary embellishment, was painful enough to hear, and Jim wrapped a comforting arm around his guide’s shaking shoulders. There was no point in murmuring useless platitudes or enquiring whether the young man was OK, because he clearly wasn’t. However, when Blair turned to face him, Jim was both proud and humbled to witness the determination on his lover’s face despite the tears. The young man was plainly set on getting through this traumatic time without being more of a burden on his sentinel lover than he could help, and Jim once again had cause to wonder at his guide’s innate selflessness, even to Blair’s own detriment. 

After offering Jim a tiny, watery grin, Blair turned back to meet Charlie’s sad gaze. Swallowing hard, he addressed the older man, once again automatically trying to lessen the other’s pain. 

“Th…thanks, Charlie. F…for telling it like it is. And for being here, man. It can’t have been easy for you, dealing with this on your own, and I can’t tell you how…how much I - _we_ \- appreciate your friendship and support for Naomi. M…my Mom. 

“B…but now we’re here, so you’re not alone any more, and perhaps we can all work together to find out what really happened. 

“Can we do that, Jim?” he added anxiously, his insecurity rearing its ugly head again, even though its reappearance under the circumstances was perfectly understandable and there was no way Jim was going to call him on it. 

“You bet, baby,” he replied sincerely. “That’s what we’re here for, and I for one have no intention of being palmed off by anything less than a credible result from a proper investigation. Naomi deserves no less, and I’m prepared to stay here until we’re satisfied.” 

Blair smiled softly at that, his eyes shining with gratitude through the tears. “Thanks, Jim. I…I know you’ll do your best, man. I trust you, man. I do.” 

There was no more to be said, so the three turned to practicalities, since Charlie was already in possession of a lot of the contact information Jim and Blair needed to work with. He gave them the names, numbers and addresses for Naomi’s friends, plus those for the PD and the coroner’s office, so all they needed to do was decide on a course of action. 

Of course the first thing they needed to arrange was for Blair to view the body, because as distressing as the process was sure to be, until Blair had provided an official identification as Naomi’s next of kin there was no point in making concrete plans. It wasn’t that they personally doubted Charlie’s initial ID, but it was only natural that they confront the harsh reality for themselves. To see that there was no mistaking the truth of the matter, and to satisfy official requirements. And from that starting point, all other actions would be dictated by necessity, whether it be keeping track of a homicide investigation or the sad but more straightforward task of dealing with funeral arrangements following a verdict of accidental death. Unfortunately, Jim’s gut instinct as a cynical and worldly-wise cop warned him of which option was the more likely, much as he would have preferred to comfort his lover through a mourning period following the latter verdict. The loss would be as great, but the circumstances surrounding it far less harrowing and perhaps easier for Blair to accept.   


\--------------------------  


Armed with the relevant information, and after promising faithfully to keep Charlie up to date with their progress, Jim and Blair headed back to their room to ready themselves for the next stage in their provisional plan of action. As they descended to the second floor, Jim kept his arm around Blair’s shoulders, almost anchoring the young man to his side as his guide seemed less than aware of his surroundings, so deep was he in his own mind. 

As soon as they entered their room, Jim’s cell phone rang, and with an irritated scowl he pulled it from his pocket. However, as soon as he saw that the caller ID was for Simon’s work number, he knew he had to take the call. Watching worriedly as Blair shambled over to slump dispiritedly on the bed, plainly still preoccupied, he answered rather distractedly, “Simon. What’s up?” 

Sympathetic as his boss might be regarding his friends’ situation; Simon’s snippy tone indicated that he wasn’t impressed by Jim’s abrupt response. 

“And hello to you too, Jim. I was wondering when you were going to check in, man. How’s the kid? He holding up?” 

Jim huffed a sigh then answered more reasonably, “Sorry, Simon. It’s been pretty stressful here, as you can probably imagine. Blair’s handling it as best he can, but it’s hard on him. We’ve just come back from visiting Charlie Spring, and heard what he had to tell us, and we’re about to find out about viewing…well, you know,” he added quietly. 

“I take it that Blair’s close by then. And you don’t want to upset him any more than you can help, huh?” 

“You got it, Simon. I mean, we both know what needs to be done, OK? And we would have let you know our plans as soon as we knew ourselves.” 

“I know, Jim. And I know I shouldn’t be getting all bent out of shape. But I care for the kid too, and wanted to know if you’d checked in with the PD yet? I’ve had some Inspector on the line asking after Blair. Apparently they’ve been trying to track him down, and eventually got through to me. I explained about the two of you already having headed out for San Fran, so I think it would be best to contact them immediately, man. They wouldn’t tell me much, but it sounded like they had some important information for him.” 

Jim frowned at that. “Guess they must have been trying to call the loft,” he mused. “And Rainier too, most likely. And when they couldn’t get any joy, I suppose they went back to Charlie to see what other contact info he could provide. I mean, he knew about Blair riding and living with me, but he had no reason to have Blair’s personal cell number. So calling the department would be the next obvious choice. 

“Whatever, it sounds more urgent than just routine tracing of next of kin. I’ll get right on it, and let you know the outcome as soon as we can.” 

“Fair enough, Jim. Now, give my best to Blair, and take care, both. Speak again soon!” and with that, he terminated the call, leaving Jim looking from the phone in his hand to where Blair was still sitting, silent and introspective. But he knew that the young man would soon rouse once Jim passed on Simon’s message. If there was new information to be had, whatever it was, they needed to know. And soon.   


\----------------------------  


**Part 3: An Unwise Decision:**  


**Previous Thursday:**  


Humming quietly to herself, Naomi packed a few final items into her overnight bag and zipped it closed. Picking up her lightweight jacket and large purse, she cast a final, critical glance at her reflection in the large dressing mirror. Satisfied with what she saw, she pulled up the handle of her small, wheeled case and walked through the open interconnecting door into Charlie’s suite. 

“Well, darling, how do I look?” she addressed him with a coquettish laugh and a deliberately alluring smile. 

Charlie grinned back, moving over to her to give her a warm hug and a peck on the cheek. “Stunning as always, my love,” he replied, the genuine admiration in his eyes clear to see. 

“Are you off now? I’ll walk down with you,” he continued. “I might as well go to the conference now, as there’s an interesting session or two yet. And you’ll have a lot more fun with your friends without me tagging along!” 

“Oh, Charlie! You know that’s not true!” Naomi replied reprovingly. “But in all fairness I think you’d be pretty bored with all the reminiscing that’s likely to be going on! And it is just for a night or two after all,” she continued as they gathered their belongings in order to leave together. “I’ll be back on Saturday morning at the latest, and we can have the day together. 

“And I have to say, Charlie, I’m so looking forward to our Napa Valley trip! It’s been too long!” 

Nodding agreeably, Charlie encouraged her to precede him out of the room, and they walked together to the elevator, his hand resting easily at the small of her back as they chatted amiably for the short trip down to the lobby. Once there, Naomi kissed Charlie’s cheek, and patted his shoulder before heading for the cab rank. 

Charlie smiled as he waved her off, then turned to make his own way back to the conference venue, never imagining in a million years that he would never see her alive again.  


\-------------------------  


Although Naomi had had every intention of going straight to her friends’ house; as it was such a pretty day she decided on a whim to spend a while wandering around the area, reacquainting herself with fondly-recalled local landmarks. After all, there was no particular hurry to get to her destination, so she asked the cab driver to drop her off a few blocks early, smiling contentedly as she turned away, not in the least concerned with her safety in this neighbourhood. Eclectic and still noticeably bohemian, it clung stubbornly to its ‘Flower Power’, hippy past, and to her way of thinking, that was no bad thing. 

She strolled along casually for a while, heading in the general direction of her friends’ house, when she saw a vaguely familiar figure approaching. A slightly perplexed frown briefly wrinkled her brow as she tried to put a name to the face. It wasn’t one of her closer friends, for sure, but she was certain that they had met before, and her belief was proved correct when he addressed her. 

“Naomi? Is that you?” the tall, thin and somewhat stooping man queried, his lined and angular features creased in almost comic consternation. “Do you remember me, Naomi? Or should I call you ‘Moonflower’?” he continued archly, referring to one of the names she had adopted during her teenage hippy years. 

Her expression lightened immediately then as she smiled widely. “Of course! It’s Anton, isn’t it? Anton Bergstrom! My, how long has it been?” 

She recognised him easily now, despite the ravages of time. He hadn’t aged particularly well even though he couldn’t have been much older than she herself. The young man of her early acquaintance had been tall and gangly, just as now, but his still abundant and unruly hair had been blond where it was now grey. That, plus the pale blue eyes in a rough-hewn face had betrayed his Scandinavian ancestry, but even as she automatically held out her hand in greeting, she couldn’t help but recall her previous impressions of him. 

And it had to be said that her recollection wasn’t particularly encouraging. 

When a teenage Naomi had spent a few months in a small commune, based in the house where her friends still lived, their fluid little band had been generally good-natured and easy-going, indulging whole-heartedly in their chosen lifestyle, and feeling no pain as they embraced the concept of free love, sex, drugs and music festivals. It was 1968, the year following the Summer of Love, and the hippy movement had still to lose any of its gloss for the majority of its willing adherents. 

However, there were always a few hangers-on, who lurked on the periphery of the group, and who weren’t quite accepted for one reason or another. Either their attitudes and opinions were too contrary to the generally accepted ones to be comfortable, or they had other, less salubrious intentions in mind. 

And Naomi remembered uneasily that Anton had been one such hanger-on. 

In retrospect, it seemed to her that the self-styled artist had been just a little too pushy and self-opinionated, frequently provoking heated arguments and then flouncing off in a huff when they didn’t go his way. But he could and did try to pursue a sexual interest in several of the girls, with little actual success. They might well have been into the free love scene, but he was just a little too creepy, and Naomi believed herself lucky insofar as although he had shown an interest in her also, the fact that she was pregnant had deterred him and he had left the commune in affronted indignation at some perceived slight before actually making any moves on her. 

And in all honesty, he hadn’t been missed at all by the rest of the group except perhaps with a passing sense of relief. 

However, back in the now, Naomi strove to banish such uncharitable thoughts as she shook hands with him, smiling winningly as she answered her own question. “Why, it must be thirty years! How time flies! 

“So, how are you, Anton, and what are you doing with yourself now? Are you still painting?” 

The tall man’s face lit up in unmerited conceit that she should remember him so well, and he almost preened as he replied. “Oh, I’m well enough, Naomi. And yes, still painting. With some success, I might add! I have a studio close by, and have never had the urge to leave the area. It suits me.” 

“Well, I’m glad to hear it!” Naomi said, her generous nature genuinely pleased for him whatever her private misgivings. “I’m here to visit Martha and Sebastian Reeves. Or should I say, ‘Windsong’ and ‘Blue Moon’! Do you see much of them also these days?” she asked ingenuously. 

Perhaps unfortunately, she failed to notice the grimace of distaste that flashed across his face before he schooled his expression to one more amiable. 

“No, not really,” he replied with feigned nonchalance, smiling rather stiffly as he explained. “We tend to move in different circles now. I mean, I’m usually to be found with the artistic set, if you know what I mean. The people that share the same interests as me.” 

Not really convinced, but not inclined to pry further, Naomi simply nodded. “I understand, Anton. But it was good to see you. And now I really must be on my way!” she added gaily, fully intending to do just that. 

However, Anton plainly had other ideas. “Oh, surely you can spare a few minutes for an old acquaintance, Naomi! I mean, my studio’s only a few steps away, and I would be very happy if you could make time for a coffee. I’d love to have the opportunity to talk about the old days, and to see what you think of my work,” and the overt appeal in his eyes was enough to melt Naomi’s soft heart. 

And that was to prove to be her undoing.  


\------------------------  


As Anton gallantly took over pulling her carry-on case and gently gripped her elbow; he pointed out his property just a short distance away on the other side of the street. It was painted yellow, the bright colour in keeping with its equally colourful neighbours, and appeared to be reasonably well maintained. Naomi commented on its charm, and on the large windows on the top floor. 

“That’s my studio,” he explained somewhat complacently. “It’s wonderfully light and airy, and has a great view. The perfect place to work, and very inspiring! I was lucky to find it.” 

Naomi nodded amiably. “Yes, Anton, it does look very nice,” she murmured politely, by now beginning to chastise herself a little for giving in too quickly. It wasn’t that he was being particularly obnoxious, but she was beginning to get uncomfortable ‘vibes’ from him, and she normally followed her instincts where such feelings were concerned. But on the other hand, it wasn’t her way to be deliberately cruel if she could avoid it, so she simply decided to take a quick look at his work, and then be on her way as soon as possible. 

As they entered the house, Naomi gazed about her with interest, noting that it was sparsely furnished, in keeping with a bachelor pad, but the walls were covered in canvases, all no doubt Anton’s creations and evidence of a prolific output. However, in all honesty, they weren’t to her taste at all. The majority were seascapes done using a variety of mediums, but none particularly well executed. Too garishly coloured, and neither realistically detailed nor satisfactorily abstract in composition, they didn’t quite hit the right balance, and she wondered incidentally if he actually sold many of them at all. 

Then again, she wasn’t about to hurt his feelings, so she kept her negative opinion to herself and smiled brightly at him instead. 

“My, Anton! You have been busy! Are all the rooms this full of your work? And your studio?” 

He visibly puffed up at that, his self-satisfied smirk bordering on nauseating as he replied patronisingly, “Oh yes, my dear! I am a compulsive worker, but it’s no hardship to toil so when one has such ability. Such instinctive creativity! I cannot waste my gift after all. It would be criminal!” 

Naomi smiled vaguely in response, but was inwardly growing more and more certain that she had made a spectacular error of judgement in allowing herself to be talked into visiting with Anton, even for a short time. However, since extricating herself tactfully might take a while longer to achieve, and repeating silently _I am letting this go,_ she allowed herself to be led up through more rooms equally filled with paintings until they reached the actual top floor studio. And it had to be said that the actual layout and location was every bit as good as Anton claimed. Bright and airy, there was indeed a great view out over the bay, which today wasn’t hidden by the frequently occurring fog banks. 

As for the rest of the room, it was a typical artist’s workplace, with a large, half-finished canvas propped on an easel, and many more canvases stacked haphazardly against the walls in various stages of completion. Used paint palettes, brushes, jars and paint-splotched rags liberally littered a large trestle along with other artistic necessities, and Naomi moved with care in order to avoid getting wet paint either on her clothing or person. 

Turning away from admiring the view, she met his avid gaze as she said amicably but firmly, “It really is spectacular, Anton. Just as you described. But now I really should be getting on. It’s been good to see you again, but Martha and Sebastian will be wondering where I am.” 

His expression darkened briefly then before he assumed a pleading look. “Can’t I persuade you to just have a drink before you go? I suppose it’s rather early to be offering wine, but perhaps coffee? Juice? Please say you’ll stay just a little longer, Naomi. We have such a lot to catch up on.” 

Naomi sighed internally, but decided that one soft drink couldn’t hurt after all. And she would still be at her friends’ house well before lunchtime. “All right, Anton. If you insist. But just the one, please. Do you have fresh orange juice?” 

Anton’s answering smile was wide then. “Certainly, Naomi! Come on down to the living room and make yourself comfortable while I go get it. And I’ll join you.” 

So saying, he led her back down two flights of stairs to what was clearly his most lived-in room other than the studio, settling her on a rather ugly and lumpy bright orange sofa while he went to the kitchen to get the drinks. But as he fixed them, his face took on a cruel and lustful look. Oh, he was going to enjoy this! He might not have had the chance to have Naomi all those years ago, but he fully intended to make up for it now. That self-satisfied bunch of drop-outs might have considered themselves too good for him back then, but at last he was going to have his reward. She was still beautiful, and he wanted her. And he was going to have her whether she liked it or not. Past experience and the drug he had just added to her drink would make sure of that. 

Schooling his expression to one of innocent conviviality, he returned to the living room and handed one of the juices to Naomi. “Here you go, Naomi! Cheers!” and he clinked his glass with hers before taking a hearty swig of his un-doctored drink. His smile grew as she too took a sip, her own smile no longer quite authentic enough to disguise her unease. 

But that didn’t matter now, as far as Anton was concerned. Even her blatant attempt to avoid conversation by standing up in order to fake an interest in a large painting on the wall behind her wasn’t going to help her now. He just watched avidly as she took another sip, and yet another, his eyes taking on a predatory gleam as his arousal spiked. And when she turned to face him, an expression of vague consternation on her pretty face as the date-rape drug began to take effect, he didn’t even bother to hide the lecherous leer he directed at her. It was almost amusing to watch her eyes widen in bemusement as she registered his intent, but when he actually reached for her, he realised he had misjudged his timing. She was not yet quite out of it enough to be entirely compliant; rather she struck out at him in a useless but annoying flurry of movement; her actions increasingly uncoordinated but still energetic. 

And when her flailing hand scraped across the canvas behind her, knocking it off the wall to crash onto the floor, he had had enough. Stepping forward, he grasped her by the shoulders, intending to throw her down onto the sofa, but she somehow evaded his clutching hands. Only to trip over his extended foot and fall backwards, her head impacting with the sharp corner of a chest of drawers with a sickening thud. 

For a long moment, Anton stared down at her sprawled body in shock, his disbelieving eyes taking in the slowly spreading pool of blood behind her head. Dropping to his knees in panic he felt for a pulse, only to come up empty. _Holy shit! She was dead! Now what? How in the hell was he going to get out of this?_

Sitting back on his heels, he forced himself to think. And came up with a simple but expedient plan. He had already planned to make one of his regular runs down to the cheap, tourist-orientated gallery-cum-gift shop where he off-loaded most of his paintings, so if he could just get Naomi undetected into his elderly panel van, he could dispose of her body and belongings in the sea further up the coast before dropping off his canvasses as normal. All he had to do was keep his cool, and he was home free. Their meeting was purely accidental after all, and he was pretty certain that there was no one who could possibly connect him with her disappearance, so all he had to do was keep his head down. 

Yeah, that would work.   


\---------------------  


**Part 4: Devastating Revelations:**  


**Present day, mid-afternoon:**  


Standing side by side in the coroner’s office viewing suite, Jim held tight to the trembling figure tucked firmly against his side. Blair was staring unblinkingly at the blank window before them, his breaths hitching as he tried to hold it together for a bit longer. Any moment now the blinds would be raised to reveal a gurney bearing a body, and they were here to verify that it was indeed that of Naomi Sandburg. 

The wait seemed interminable to both men, but Jim knew that for his lover it must be so much worse. The young man wouldn’t even be able to approach the body, because although the autopsy had already been carried out, there was still a lot of follow-up to be done before it could be released for burial. And that was something both of them would have to bear with whether they liked it or not. 

As he stood quietly, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down Blair’s upper arm, Jim couldn’t help but relive the past few hours, not at all happy with how his grieving lover had been treated thus far by the SFPD. But for the moment he had to hold on to his tightly-controlled temper, because losing it wouldn’t do Blair any good right now. And the worst was undoubtedly yet to come.  


\------------------------  


When they had returned to their room, and after receiving Simon’s call, Blair had indeed roused enough to declare that he would contact the police department as requested without further delay. But he had asked that Jim listen in to both sides of the upcoming conversation, needing to know that his lover was fully up to speed with everything the cops could tell him about Naomi’s death. And to provide support as needed, because Blair was ashamed to admit that he was barely coping. 

Dialling the contact number Charlie had provided, Blair was put through to an Inspector Duquesne, and the exchange that followed was enough to make Jim clench his teeth in silent fury as he recalled it word for word. 

When Blair had announced himself, both men could make out the long-suffering sigh on the other end of the line before the cop responded stiffly, “Mr Sandburg. At last. We were wondering when you’d be getting in contact. You’re a hard man to track down, sir,” and the inflection in the Inspector’s tone left Blair in no doubt that the ‘sir’ was tacked on for form’s sake only. 

Stuttering an unwarranted apology, Blair had listened in growing consternation as the other man virtually ignored his reply as he continued to relay his information in a flat tone without a trace of warmth or sensitivity such that Blair felt as if he were nothing more than an unwanted but necessary imposition on the cop’s time. A tiny inner demon even whispered snidely that he would get more sympathy from the Speaking Clock, and he was more than grateful for Jim’s comforting presence at his side as he tried to assimilate the words he was hearing. 

It was obvious that Duquesne was either unaware of or simply uninterested in Blair’s involvement with Cascade PD, or his likely familiarity with standard procedure as he mechanically trotted out the list of actions required, beginning with a visit to the coroner’s to formally ID the body. Once that was done, and assuming that the identification was verified, Blair was expected to go to the PD to meet with the inspector and his partner to make a statement and review how the case was proceeding. Because it was only then that he casually mentioned that the autopsy had already been carried out, on account of the weekend being a pretty slow one in terms of the city’s usual mortality rate. 

Ignoring, or perhaps not even registering Blair’s horrified gasp at such an offhandedly callous remark, he calmly proceeded to inform the young man that the preliminary autopsy findings suggested that the manner of death was ‘suspicious’; hence its being kicked up to him in Homicide; although he wasn’t prepared to go into detail over the phone. 

And it was at that point when a furious and disgusted Jim had seized the handset from Blair’s shaking grasp and given the other cop the benefit of his unedited opinion regarding his totally unacceptable manner and unprofessional attitude. The upshot of the heated exchange was for the clearly disgruntled Duquesne to bark that he’d see them at the coroner’s office instead, before slamming the phone down on Jim. 

For several charged seconds, Jim had glared at the innocent instrument in his hand, grinding his teeth in impotent fury before raising his head to look at his stunned partner. Taking in Blair’s wide-eyed and open-mouthed astonishment, his expression became wry and sheepish as he said, “Sorry, babe. I didn’t intend to go all caveman on you like that. He just pissed me off that much! I know it’s no excuse, but I couldn’t take hearing him speak to you like that. Forgive me?” 

Blair had blinked at him, then his pale face had relaxed into a sad smile. “It’s OK, Jim. I mean, I guess I ought to be all affronted and kicking butt for having you leap to my defence like that. Like I was some sort of spineless goober. But right now, I’m just glad you’re here for me, man. I’m not holding up too well, and I truly appreciate your support, so nothing to forgive, lover.” 

Relieved that he hadn’t mortally offended his normally feisty and self-reliant partner, Jim had simply taken him in his arms for a comforting hug, and then they had set out for the coroner’s office, knowing that there was no point in delaying the inevitable any longer.   


\-------------------------------  


Back in the present, Jim tightened his hold on Blair slightly as he heard someone enter the room behind them, but as the two newcomers kept their distance and waited in silence, he discounted them as unimportant for now. Because the blinds had just been raised, and Blair’s heart began to thunder in his chest as a mortuary assistant rolled a gurney into sight, the body thereon draped in a pale blue sheet. The assistant, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, moved to the head of the gurney as he looked towards the two men on the other side of the window, waiting patiently for them to indicate that they were ready to view the deceased. 

Holding on to the now visibly shuddering body of his guide, Jim met the man’s gaze and nodded grimly in assent, knowing that it was beyond Blair to do so. 

Without further ado, the assistant gently pulled back the sheet just enough to reveal the face and head, and Blair choked out a wordless cry of pure distress. Because there was no doubt that it was indeed Naomi, and all tentative hope for a case of mistaken identity was now extinguished. The body had been in the water for at least forty eight hours, and the detrimental effects were unforgivingly obvious, but the coroner’s staff had clearly made an effort to make the body more presentable, and a part of Jim’s consciousness was grateful for their professional kindness and consideration. But then all his attention was on his lover as Blair turned to him with a sob and buried his face against Jim’s broad chest, his arms around Jim’s waist and hands clutching his big lover’s jacket as if he’d never let go. Jim was barely aware of the blinds coming down again as he rocked the distraught man in his arms; determined to hold on for as long as Blair needed, and to hell with the watching figures behind them. 

It was several minutes before Blair’s wracking sobs diminished, and his death grip on Jim’s jacket began to relax a little. Jim’s heart bled for the young man as Blair made a gargantuan effort to straighten up; his red-rimmed and teary blue gaze shyly meeting Jim’s concerned one, mutely conveying his gratitude and also an apology for his meltdown. 

But Jim was having none of that. The last thing Blair needed to do was apologise for his reaction to the devastating sight of his beloved mother, who had been snatched from life in such an apparently cruel way. Death from age or natural causes was hard enough to bear, especially for a gentle soul such as Blair’s. But the gods only knew what the autopsy had revealed in this instance, so on top of his profound grief at his loss, his lover’s uncertainty regarding the manner of her death was set to continue for the foreseeable future, at least until the investigation concluded. 

Raising his hands to cup Blair’s wet cheeks in gentle palms, Jim murmured for Blair’s ears only, “You back with me, babe? Do you want to go back to the hotel for a bit, huh? Because if so, then to hell with what the PD wants. Whatever you need, Chief.” 

However, he was prouder than he could say when the young man swallowed hard and shook his head slightly. His voice still thick with tears, Blair rasped, “No, Jim. I…I’m OK. That is, I’ll go to the PD now, as long as you’re with me. I don’t want there to be any more delay in finding out who did this to Mom. I need to know, Jim. So maybe I can understand. Begin to learn to live with it?” 

Jim nodded then and patted the damp cheeks gently before dropping his hands to Blair’s shoulders. “Fair enough, babe,” he replied softly. “It’s for the best, and for what it’s worth, I admire your courage, Chief. And I’ll be with you all the way, I promise.” 

“It’s worth a lot, Jim,” Blair whispered back earnestly, a tiny watery grin lifting the corner of his generous mouth as he accepted the clean handkerchief Jim held out to him. Then he straightened up a little more and turned to face the two watchers at the back of the room, and with Jim gripping his upper arm in conspicuous support, they approached the pair. 

Made up of a male and female, the couple stepped forward to meet the Cascade men, each of them eyeing the others with cautious interest. The man was tall and broad shouldered, his features hard beneath a thatch of thick, black hair greying at the temples. His mouth was like a steel trap, and what appeared to be a perpetual frown creased his brow, his dark-eyed gaze narrow and suspicious. Even before they introduced themselves, it was fairly obvious to both Jim and Blair that this had to be the cynical and ill-tempered Inspector Duquesne. 

On the other hand, the woman was only an inch or so taller than Blair, stockily built but not fat. She appeared to be in her late thirties to early forties, her dark auburn hair cut in a no-nonsense bob, and if she was wearing makeup it had been applied sparingly. Her broad-featured face was pleasant without any pretence at beauty, but her self-contained demeanour and level gaze suggested that she was every bit as tough and experienced as her partner, but with a decidedly more understanding outlook. And that would indeed prove to be the case once they became better acquainted. 

However, for the time being, Jim was on full alert for any perceived threat to his hurting guide, and he maintained his state of readiness while the introductions were made. 

Flicking a slightly irritated glance at her petulant partner, the woman stepped forward, holding her hand out to Blair first. “Mr Sandburg? Let me introduce myself. I am Inspector Marietta Montiguez, SFPD Bay Area Homicide Division, and this is my partner, Inspector Frank Duquesne. I’m so sorry for your loss, but I hope that we can work together to solve the mystery of your mother’s death as soon as possible.” 

When Blair took the proffered hand, her eyes did indeed convey genuine sympathy, and Blair offered her a small but grateful smile as he replied quietly, “Thank you, Inspector Montiguez. I appreciate it. And this is Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit. I…uh…I’ve been riding with him as an observer for a while now, and I trust him and his judgement implicitly.” 

As Jim reached over to shake her hand in his turn, he smiled a little more warmly as he added, “What Blair doesn’t say is that, although he’s not a cop, he’s the best partner I’ve ever had, and I don’t have to worry about my back when he’s riding with me. And I’m pleased to make your acquaintance also, Inspector Montiguez.” 

An impatient huff from Duquesne brought their attention back to him as he growled, “OK, then, now we all know each other, let’s get this show on the road. You might as well ride back to the PD with us, Detective Ellison, Mr Sandburg. No need to waste any more time.” 

Montiguez grimaced and rolled her eyes, offering the Cascade men an apologetic look as she said, “Don’t mind my partner, guys. Believe it or not, he’s a good detective, but lacking in social graces.” 

She completely ignored the aggrieved scowl Duquesne sent in her direction, and it was clear that she wasn’t in the least intimidated by his attitude, so Jim and Blair simply shrugged and accompanied her in following her partner out of the room, their only concern now with learning as much as possible from the upcoming interview.   


\------------------------  


**Shortly afterwards, SFPD Bay Area Homicide Division bullpen:**  


On arrival at the Bay Area Precinct, once Jim and Blair had been signed in and given their temporary passes, they entered the Homicide Division bullpen, preceded by Duquesne, who plainly lacked even enough common courtesy to wait for either his partner or his unwilling visitors. Instead, he simply shoved open the double doors and strode in, glancing to neither left nor right and intent on reaching his desk without delay. Montiguez shook her head again, a grimace of weary resignation briefly twisting her features as she held the door open for Jim and Blair. Although Blair was still too distracted to take much notice of his surroundings or the SFPD cops’ interactions; his normal inquisitiveness and empathy effectively quashed for the present by his soul-deep distress; Jim couldn’t help but look around him with interest. Although most of his attention was naturally focussed on his partner, and in particular on monitoring the young man’s current condition, he automatically scanned the room for potential threats, incidentally noting with interest the reactions the other occupants towards Duquesne and his partner. 

For the most part, Duquesne was completely ignored apart from one or two disdainful glances, but his popular partner fielded a good few cheery greetings which she acknowledged with a wave and a grin. 

“Yo, Etta, how’re ya doin’? Keep up the good work, doll!” 

Jim thought wryly that she was obviously the ‘good cop’ in the partnership, and was most likely resigned to the role. He considered that she must have the patience of a saint, judging by his observations during their short drive to the PD, rather like Blair had to have when partnering Jim. But then again, Jim surely hoped that he had a long way to go before reaching Duquesne’s level of sheer curmudgeonliness. He decided to ask Blair for his opinion once the young man was less stressed and unhappy, but that might well be some while yet. 

His ruminations were abruptly halted when Duquesne turned to face them again, having appropriated a file and a bunch of papers from his desk. 

“Best take this to one of the interview rooms,” he stated bluntly. “This way!” and he turned on his heel and marched off again, fully expecting the others to follow suit. 

Jim couldn’t help it. He had to say something, especially as he felt Blair begin to shake again, upset by the unnecessarily combative tone. 

“He always like this?” he growled, frowning at Marietta, although his anger and disgust were clearly not aimed at her. “My partner doesn’t need this sort of discourtesy and attitude. And I gotta say that such intolerant behaviour wouldn’t be stomached in Cascade’s MCU. Hell, even the guys in Vice would have their work cut out to be that obnoxious!” 

He didn’t trouble to keep his voice down, and by the openly interested and occasionally gleeful looks cast in their direction, it would appear that he had some local support. On the other hand, to her credit, Marietta didn’t stoop to open criticism of her partner. Instead she just shrugged wearily, saying, “Look, I’m sorry guys, and especially on behalf of Mr Sandburg here, but it’s just the way he is. 

“And he really is a good investigator, even if he doesn’t have people skills. I just try and make up for it, is all. Let’s get this over with, shall we? Then perhaps Mr Sandburg can take a bit of down-time. 

“Would you guys like some coffee in the meantime? Water? Soda? It’s no trouble.” 

A still somewhat distracted Blair offered her a wan smile at that. “Thank you, Inspector. Um, some water would be good. Ah, and you can call me Blair if you want.” 

“No problem, Mr Sandburg. Blair. And for you, Detective Ellison?” 

“Same for me, thanks, and I’m Jim,” Jim responded in a rather warmer tone. There was no need to take out his anger and disgust on her, especially in the face of her genuine attempt to placate the Cascade men. Instead he simply took Blair’s arm in a gentle grip and urged him to follow Marietta across the bullpen and into the interview room where Duquesne was already seated, impatiently turning over the pages of the file in front of him. 

As soon as they were all settled, Marietta having produced the bottled water for Jim and Blair as requested, Duquesne started straight in with the details of the autopsy report in front of him. He barely glanced at Blair while he related the information in an almost bored monotone, apparently completely indifferent to the reaction the cruel facts elicited in the victim’s son. However, distressed as he was, Blair was still determined to hold it together long enough to get through the heart-breaking session, knowing that both he and Jim needed to hear the facts for themselves. And he was also well aware that, if he lost it in front of the SFPD cops, not only would he be mortally embarrassed, but also it would undoubtedly set Jim off in a furious outburst of BPS, or what they wryly referred to as ‘Blessed Protector Syndrome’. He could literally feel his big lover’s barely controlled rage and indignation in the unconscious flexing of the warm hand resting on his knee, and the last thing he wanted was for Jim to go on the warpath on his account. He needed Jim with him, supporting him through this traumatic situation, not banned from the local PD in disgrace for getting up in Duquesne’s face, or worse still, punching the arrogant asshole’s lights out. He therefore murmured sub vocally, “Please, Jim, don’t! I’ll be OK, honest. I can hold it together if you can.” 

The words had the desired effect in that he saw the rapidly jumping muscle in Jim’s tense jaw slow slightly as the big man deliberately forced himself to relax a little, although there was no question of him standing down altogether. And a small, reassuring grin directed at his guide allowed Blair’s own tension level to drop a little. 

Now, he just had to get through the next few minutes without going into complete meltdown…. 

Although the length of time the body had been in the water had made the exact time of death harder to ascertain, the ME had nevertheless determined that Naomi had died within a few hours of leaving her hotel. Charlie Spring’s statement, backed up by hotel staff, confirmed that she had left the hotel at 8.30 am, and taken a cab to the Haight-Ashbury district. The cab driver had already been located and interviewed, and had confirmed that he had let his passenger out early instead of taking her direct to her destination. So whoever she had encountered after that was probably involved in her death, either deliberately or accidentally. And if they were to be believed –and there was no reason why they shouldn’t be at this time – her friends confirmed that she had never arrived at their address. 

It was the manner of her death that was more problematical, according to Duquesne; an opinion dictated by the evidence thrown up by the autopsy. He stated bluntly that most bodies thus washed up were what he callously referred to as ‘jumpers’; suicides who dived off the bridge or threw themselves off boats or the coastal cliffs. But because the preliminary report suggested foul play, the case was bumped to Homicide. 

Although the ME had determined that actual cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the skull, he was not prepared to voice an opinion as to what had caused it. Options included either a pointed implement, such as a wooden spike, or possibly the corner of a hearth or piece of furniture. It was unlikely to have been caused by her hitting her head on something when she went into the water, as there was no water in her lungs. She didn’t drown, therefore, but was dead before she went in, which made it more likely that someone threw her in to get rid of the evidence. And it was probably done from some way up the coast from where the body washed up. 

However, whoever it was hadn’t taken the currents and undertow into consideration, as the body had been carried quite quickly into the bay, to come to rest close to the Golden Gate Bridge. 

By this point, Blair knew he was very close to losing it despite his determined efforts to stay focussed. His over-active imagination continuously conjured up the worst scenarios he found almost impossible to banish from his mind. His heart was galloping as his breaths became shorter, the incipient panic attack only too obvious to Jim as the bigger man pulled him virtually into his lap, and to hell with whatever the watching detectives might think. As Jim rubbed soothing circles on his back, he murmured encouragingly, “Easy, Chief. Breathe, kiddo. It’s OK, Blair. Just take it slowly. That’s it. Breathe for me. In…out…in…out. You can do it.” 

Blair tried his best to obey, and with a determined effort he gradually managed to regain some sort of control, vaguely aware that Marietta was crouched in front of him, her expression genuinely concerned. When he finally managed to raise sheepish eyes to meet her gaze, she said softly, “Will you be OK, Mr Sandburg? Blair? Do you need to take a break?” and totally ignored the annoyed snort from her partner other than shooting him yet another scathing look. 

Jim had been about to ask him the very same thing. His young lover hadn’t had a panic attack like that for some time now, and never since they had committed to each other in all ways, and he freely admitted to himself that it had frightened him. But once again Blair amazed him with his stubborn courage and resilience as he answered her shakily but resolutely, “N…no. But th…thanks for asking. I’ll be OK. Well, not OK, but I…I don’t want to stop now. I…I have to hear the rest. For Mom’s sake. I have to know, you see? I _have_ to!” 

Jim had to have his say then, just to reassure himself as much as anything. And make the point to the insensitive and boorish Duquesne. “Are you really sure, Chief? It’s hard to hear – even harder to take in, so if you want a short Time Out we can do it.” 

Blair offered him a shaky smile then, although it didn’t reach his eyes which remained deep pools of pain and sorrow. “Yes, Jim. I’m sure. I – we – both need to know everything to date, and I don’t want to be the reason for delaying the investigation, man. I’ll be OK now. At least until we get back to the hotel!” he added ruefully. 

“Fair enough, Chief,” Jim replied with some reluctance, although he was truly appreciative of his lover’s courage under fire, so to speak. And as Blair slid a little bashfully off his lap and back onto his seat, a cold and deadly glare from the sentinel was enough to discourage Duquesne from making any adverse comment as Marietta also returned to her seat and the session recommenced. 

As Jim had suspected, the more intimate results from the autopsy were even more harrowing if that was possible, but to his eternal credit, Blair managed to sit through them with white-faced stoicism, although Jim could only guess what it was costing his guide. But the cop in him insisted that he focus on the information offered, knowing that he intended to do whatever was necessary to help close the case whether officially invited to or not. His lover – and Naomi – deserved no less of him. 

According to the toxicology report, Naomi had traces of a date-rape drug such as Rohypnol or a derivative of the same in her bloodstream. Also, although there was evidence of recent sexual activity, there was no semen present, and no bruising or tearing associated with assault or even consensual rough sex, which was a huge relief to Blair. At least his mother wasn’t an actual rape victim, even if her attacker had had that intention when he drugged her. 

But how she came to die from such a violent head injury was a whole other question. 

Finally, and in what was to turn out to be a vital piece of information, Duquesne said that minute traces of flaked paint were found under the fingernails of her right hand, which even submersion in the sea hadn’t quite managed to wash away. It was being analysed even as they sat, and at Jim’s demand he agreed to inform the Cascade pair of the results as soon as they were known, albeit with noticeably ill-grace. 

There was nothing more to learn at that time, so Jim was preparing to escort his fragile guide back to the hotel for a while when the door opened to reveal none other than Captain Ramirez, the Homicide Division’s boss. 

His shrewd glance swiftly assessing the demeanours of both his own people and the Cascade men; and in particular that of the victim’s son; he addressed the group without preamble. 

“Mr Sandburg, Detective Ellison, may I introduce myself. In case you were unaware of it, I am Captain Roberto Ramirez, head of this department. And I am well acquainted with your Captain, Detective Ellison. Simon Banks and I go way back, so when he called me to bring me up to speed on your reason for visiting our fair city, I knew it was important. 

“So first off, may I say, my sincere condolences on your loss, Mr Sandburg. I understand that your mother Naomi was a frequent visitor, and even resided here for a while during the late 1960s and early 70s. And I believe you also accompanied her on many occasions?” 

When Blair offered him a sad smile and wordless nod of assent, he continued, “Then I’m doubly sorry that this visit is as a result of such a distressing event, son. 

“Anyhow, what I wanted to say was that I can assure you that this department will do its utmost to solve this case as soon as possible. But despite what my friend Simon told me about your impressive success rate, Detective Ellison; and believe me, he sang your praises and some; I am going to say here and now that I cannot condone any interference in my inspectors’ investigation, do I make myself clear? This isn’t your jurisdiction, detective, and you are only welcome here in your role as support for your partner. 

“Is that understood?” 

Although Jim had actually expected as much; local PDs tending to be universally extremely jealous of their reputations and unwilling to accept outside interference; it still rankled, and his expression was almost mutinous for a fleeting moment before he gave his reluctant consent. 

However, even as he and Blair made their way out of the department with the intention of returning to their hotel to rest and regroup, he whispered quietly to his anxious lover, “Don’t worry, babe. I don’t care what Ramirez wants. If I need to stick my oar in to help get to the bottom of this sick business, I will. No problem!” 

And Blair just had to be profoundly grateful for that.  


\----------------------  


**Part 5: The Chase is Afoot:**  


By the time sentinel and guide were back in their hotel room, Blair was worryingly quiet and still, and Jim was certain that his young lover was in shock. On top of the natural distress arising from the identification of the deceased, the available information pertaining to Naomi’s death had been too much to take in at the following meeting at the Bay Area Precinct, especially considering Duquesne’s unfeeling attitude and delivery, and now it had all come crashing down on his gentle and sensitive partner. 

Since by now it was early evening, there was nothing practical to be done as regards furthering the investigation, so Jim made a unilateral decision to get some food inside his hurting lover and then try to offer him as much comfort and support as possible in order for him to get some sort of rest. It had been a hectic day following a sleepless night, and both men were weary and in need of some down time, and an early night was suddenly very appealing. 

However, before he could put the first part of his plan into action, the hotel phone rang insistently, so with ill-grace he moved to pick it up, incidentally noting that Blair had barely registered its intrusion into his sorrowful introspection. 

The caller turned out to be Charlie, understandably anxious to learn how they had gotten on during the day, and if they had any more information to share. Although Jim was hard put to control his aggravation at the unwanted interruption, he knew that the other man had a right to his own pain at the loss of a dear friend, so he forced himself to be as patient as possible. He confirmed that Blair’s formal identification had corroborated Charlie’s own, but he glossed over the following meeting with the homicide detectives, unwilling to go into any detail right now. Instead, he promised that he and Blair would meet Charlie for breakfast early the next morning, and would fill him in more thoroughly then. 

To his credit, Charlie didn’t push, undoubtedly understanding what a fragile condition Blair must be in, so he terminated the call after wishing both Jim and Blair as good a night as possible under the circumstances. 

As Jim replaced the handset, he looked up to see Blair watching him, red-rimmed and mournful eyes cutting him to the quick. Swiftly moving over to the smaller man, he placed gentle hands on his lover’s shoulders as he gazed down into the pale and care-worn face, his own expression conveying nothing but care and concern at the total lack of animation in the beloved features. 

“That was Charlie, babe,” he said, gently squeezing the tense shoulders beneath his hands. “He just wanted to know how we got on today, love, but he’s agreed to meet us tomorrow at breakfast for a full update. I think we both need to try and chill a bit, even though I know it’ll be hard for you, sweetheart. But we need to keep our strength up, and be ready for whatever we need to do. 

“That work for you, babe?” 

Blair gazed up at him for a long moment, biting his lower lip in an unconscious indication of the stress and anxiety plaguing him; a bone-deep fatigue of body and soul currently overriding his normally hyperactive self. 

Finally however, he sighed deeply and offered Jim a sad half-grin. “I’m sorry, man. To be such a miserable pain in the ass. I truly appreciate your patience, Jim, and I’ll try not to be too much of a burden here. It’s just that I don’t know how to describe how I’m feeling right now. I feel sort of numb, I guess. Not with the programme. And definitely not firing on all cylinders. 

“But if you need to get something to eat, man, go for it. Perhaps I’ll just try and get some sleep…” 

Jim smiled in sad but fond exasperation as he gently shook the smaller man. “Stop with the apologising, babe, OK? You have nothing to apologise for, you hear me? And you’re not a burden, Blair. But like I said, we owe it to ourselves and to Naomi to keep our strength up, so I’m going to ring down to room service for something light, and then I propose that we have a relaxing shower and an early night. Sound good to you?” 

He was greatly relieved when Blair simply nodded, too tired to argue, and willing for once to turn over sole responsibility for their welfare to Jim. Pulling his guide into another comforting hug, he dropped a kiss on the curly crown beneath his chin, then eased the smaller man down onto the bed before picking up the phone again to order their meal. 

It was likely to be another wretched and depressing evening and night, but he was going to do his damnedest to make it as bearable for his beloved guide as humanly possible.   


\--------------------------  


**Following morning:**  


Although still sombre and unnaturally quiet, the two men who made their way down to the hotel dining room for breakfast were at least somewhat rested, due for the most part to Jim’s diligent attention to his guide’s care and needs during the evening and night. After managing to coax Blair into eating the better part of a light supper of soup and salad, he had led his unprotesting young partner into the luxurious bathroom, there to gently undress him and urge him into the large tub he had filled with deliciously warm water and bubbles from the complimentary foam bath. Since it was plenty big enough for two, he had joined his lover in the almost hedonistic heat and pleasure of the intimate proximity, carefully soothing and bathing the smaller man with sentinel sensitive touch until Blair was relaxed almost to the point of falling asleep where he sat, cuddled back to chest between Jim’s parted legs. 

Having eased his almost comatose lover out of the tub, and dried him with care, he had tucked Blair into bed and climbed in next to him, cuddling the warm body close in his powerful and protective embrace for the night. 

Although unsurprisingly his lover had woken several times; either disturbed by the onset of nightmares or to weep softly in Jim’s arms; Jim had for the most part been able to sooth his guide back to sleep relatively quickly, and had also managed to get a few hours’ reasonable slumber himself. Consequently, although neither man would claim to be looking forward to the day ahead, at least they weren’t running on fumes and were more able to cope with whatever transpired. 

As they made their way across the dining room to the table where Charlie waited for them to join him, Blair looked up to offer Jim a sad smile as he murmured sentinel-soft, “Thanks, Jim. For last night, man. For taking such good care of me. Love you, man.” 

Jim’s answering smile was affectionate as he replied, “De nada, Chief. This time you needed the TLC, and I needed to deliver it. It’s all good, babe. It’s what our partnership is all about. Equality.” 

Blair’s smile was warmer then, the love and appreciation in his eyes banishing the desperate sadness for a precious moment. “Thanks, man. Again. You’re the best,” and then they were at Charlie’s table, and their attention focussed on the little man who had bounced to his feet to greet them. 

Charlie moved quickly around the table to give Blair a hug, then, with a slightly rueful smile, held his hand out to Jim instead. Jim’s answering grin was somewhat sardonic, but he appreciated the smaller man’s restraint where he personally was concerned. Taking their seats again, Jim and Blair ordered coffee and OJ from the waiter who had appeared almost immediately, and once they had their privacy again, Charlie reached over and clasped Blair’s hand where it rested on the table. 

“How are you, Blair? I can see that you’re still deeply distressed, but I know that Jim will have been looking out for you. I honestly don’t want to upset you even more, but I would appreciate it very much if you can find it in you to bring me up to speed. I know it’s hardly the same, but I loved her too, and I’m going to miss her more than I can say.” 

In truth, the last thing Blair wanted was to rehash the previous day’s trials and tribulations, but he knew that Charlie’s emotions were genuine, and that he deserved to hear whatever they could tell him. So he offered the other man a wan smile, and with Jim’s hand also covering his in support, he told Charlie what he could. And when he choked up too much, Jim took over and finished the description, betraying far more sensitivity than he would have credited himself with. 

During the painful recitation, which had been interrupted at intervals when their beverages had arrived, and the waiter had taken and then delivered their breakfast orders, all three men had bonded after a fashion over their shared sense of loss, although internally Jim freely admitted that his emotions were more centred on his lover than himself. He had genuinely liked Naomi, even though he had found her exasperating in many ways, with her off-the-wall, New Age-y opinions and totally irritating addiction to feng shui, but he had appreciated her very real love for her only son, even if she had a weird way of showing it. She had breezed in and out of his life almost at random, blithely interfering in the belief that she was helping him even when he didn’t need it, but her loss was going to be so very hard for Blair to bear. 

After they had eaten what they could of their meals, with Blair only managing a little fruit and cereal, Charlie told them that, as her room was no longer considered to be a crime scene, and the hotel wanted it vacated, he had packed up Naomi’s things and would deliver them to Jim and Blair’s room later that day or when it was convenient. His emotions were plainly very near the surface, and he suddenly needed some space, so he apologised and took his leave, thanking them for their understanding, and saying that he would see them later. 

His own eyes brimming again in empathy, Blair met Jim’s concerned gaze as he said, “Oh, man. Poor Charlie! I feel for him, Jim. It’s obvious that he really loved mom, didn’t he? It’s so not fair!” 

And all Jim could do was squeeze his guide’s hand in an effort to comfort him, saying, “No, babe, it’s not. But all we can do is try and solve this case and get some justice for Naomi. And after that, we’ll just take it a day at a time, babe. A day at a time.” 

They were about to return to their room in order to gather what they needed for the day ahead when Jim’s cell phone rang, and he pulled it from his jeans pocket with an irritated scowl. However, glancing at the caller ID, he met Blair’s worried gaze as he muttered, “It’s Marietta Montiguez. Let’s see what she has to say!”  


\-----------------------------  


If the two men had but known it, over in the Bay Area Homicide bullpen, Marietta Montiguez and the irascible Duquesne had been having yet another war of words over what information to divulge to the Cascade men. Duquesne was of the opinion that it was all need-to-know, and since Ellison was out of his jurisdiction anyway, he _didn’t_ need to know. However, Marietta thought differently. Although as an experienced, veteran Homicide detective she had necessarily become hardened to violent deaths to a certain extent, she had nevertheless retained her innate sympathy and understanding for victims and their loved ones, and she freely admitted to herself that young Blair Sandburg had struck a chord within her. Consequently she was quite prepared to argue her case with Duquesne, for whom she had only reluctantly acquired a modicum of tolerance and patience. 

But only so far, and this was an instance she wasn’t prepared to concede. 

Certainly he qualified as the senior partner in theory, but since she was the only detective in the department who was prepared to ride with him on a regular basis, she was granted a fair amount of leeway when it came to getting her own way, and she knew it. And was prepared to use it when necessary, especially as she more often than not had her boss’ backup. 

Not that that would be the case in this instance, apparently, but what the heck? She’d cross that bridge when she got to it. 

Looking up from the forensics report clutched in her hand, she scowled up at her partner, who was standing rigidly in front of her desk, feet apart, arms folded defensively across his chest and a belligerent frown darkening his already stern features. 

“It’s no good giving me the evil eye, Frankie. I still think I should call Jim Ellison with the results of the paint analysis. We promised him and Blair yesterday that we’d let them know as soon as we got them, and I for one don’t intend to go back on my word! It’s only professional courtesy after all, and it’s not like they can do anything with them!” 

“No, Montiguez, _YOU_ promised, not me! And I don’t want him to know. I’ve been reading up about him and his precious record in Cascade’s Major Crimes Unit, and I can guarantee he’ll be poking his nose into our business whatever Captain Ramirez says, and I don’t want him here! I don’t give a shit if he’s been their ‘Cop of the Year’ on God knows how many occasions. It’s our investigation, and we don’t need him, period!” 

“Oh, get over yourself, Frankie!” Marietta growled, shaking her head in exasperation. “It’s a bit of trace evidence is all, and if passing it on gives Blair some reassurance that we’re taking his mom’s death seriously, then I’m going to do it. Now!” 

And with that, she picked up her desk phone and dialled Jim Ellison’s number, deliberately ignoring her fuming partner. 

Realising that Marietta had won this round – AGAIN – and rather than make himself a laughing stock for their colleagues in the vicinity, Duquesne retreated to his own desk, but his basilisk glare over at his partner gave notice that he wasn’t going to take this lying down. 

Peripherally aware of Duquesne’s simmering rancour, but paying it no mind, Marietta was all business when Ellison answered, and explained her reason for calling without further ado.  


\-------------------------------  


“Ellison here. Good morning, Inspector Montiguez. Marietta. Have you got any news for us?” Jim kept his tone as courteous as possible, even though he was impatient to hear what the other detective had to say. She was the ‘good guy’ after all, and he didn’t want to put her back up. 

“Morning, Jim. I hope you and Blair managed to get a bit of decent sleep last night. Anyhow, we’ve received the detailed analysis of the paint traces under the vic’s…I mean, Ms Sandburg’s fingernails, so I thought I’d let you have the results as promised. 

“The important thing here is that we’re talking about artists’ paint rather than decorating stuff. Apparently it’s acrylic, not oil paint, so Ms Sandburg must have been in contact with perhaps a canvas or some such after she was drugged? Whatever, there’s nothing special about it, I’m afraid. Just a readily available common or garden popular brand, so I don’t see that it helps us any. It could have happened anywhere, to anyone’s artwork. 

“I’m sorry, Jim, but there’s nothing much else to add right now,” and the honest regret in her tone was clear. 

Although disappointed at the inspector’s negativity, Jim forced himself to respond politely, and after thanking her for the information, and receiving a promise to keep both he and Blair up to speed with the on-going investigation, he terminated the call and turned to update his lover, who was watching him intently, his expression one of curiosity tinged with hopefulness. 

“What is it, Jim? What did Marietta have to say?” Blair asked eagerly, so hoping for something positive. However, Jim’s frown promised nothing of the sort, so he deflated again as Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders and eased them both down to sit on the bed. 

“I’m sorry, babe, but all she said was that the paint flakes under Naomi’s nails were artists’ acrylic not the decorating variety, so Naomi must have scraped against someone’s artwork rather than a wall or other painted surface. But there was nothing specific in the type, so she reckons that as a lead it’s pretty much useless unless the actual damaged canvas could be located.” 

Blair was silent for a moment, turning away to stare unseeingly out of the window. However, when he turned back to face Jim, his expression wasn’t the deeply disappointed one Jim might have expected. Instead, there was a glimmer of excitement in the big blue eyes. 

“You OK, babe?” Jim murmured, a slightly perplexed frown creasing his patrician features. “You look like you’ve had an ‘ah ha’ moment!” 

Blair grinned wanly at that, although he was serious when he replied, his words tentative to begin with in case Jim considered him to have lost it altogether. 

“Well, this is really just a hunch, lover. Just occurred to me is all. I mean, if you think I’m being totally unrealistic here – wishful thinking and all – just say so, man.” He paused there, waiting for an indication that Jim was giving him the benefit of his undivided attention, the older man’s opinion still so very important to him and his ever-precarious self-esteem. But when Jim simply smiled and nodded encouragingly, he took a deep breath and continued. 

“See, it’s like this, man. I mean, I know you wanted to go with me to see Naomi’s friends – Martha and Sebastian Reeves – just out of courtesy, you know? But I’m thinking that perhaps we might learn more from them than the SFPD guys. After all, surely they can’t complain about us interfering with the investigation? I just want to touch base with Naomi’s friends as her son. I’m pretty sure I’ll remember them when I see them anyway, even if they went by some weird flower-child names back in the day…” 

Jim squeezed his shoulders then, an expectant smile on his face as he waited for his intuitive partner to continue. He was long past the stage when he would dismiss Blair’s ideas out of hand. His super-genius, empathic guide had turned up trumps far too often in past cases for that to happen, even though Simon still seemed to feel the need to reiterate, ‘You’re not a cop, Sandburg’ far too often for both their liking. 

Relaxing a little more under Jim’s warm gaze, Blair continued more confidently. “OK, well, I was thinking that Naomi must have met someone she recognised when she was on her way to the Reeves’ place. However ditzy you thought she was, I’m sure she would never have willingly gone off with some stranger. I mean, she lived here on and off for quite a while, and I guess there’s still a good few of her old acquaintances still hanging out here. Aging hippies and all,” and he broke off to snicker softly, focus turned inward for a moment as he no doubt recalled fondly some of those same characters. 

Then, shaking himself and returning the now, he carried on. “Anyhow, I was thinking that there would almost definitely be some artists among the folks she used to hang with. You know how she was always into the creative scene? So say if she met up with one of those guys – or gals – and things got out of hand? Perhaps if we ask her friends for their ideas about local artists, you can use your gift to ascertain if they’re being up front? It can’t hurt, surely? And then perhaps we can follow up…” 

He gazed earnestly then at his sentinel lover, looking for some sign that Jim wasn’t going to dismiss his suggestion, however gently, and unbelievably relieved when Jim simply nodded thoughtfully. 

“Know what, babe? I think you might well have an idea there. I mean, I have to be honest and admit that it’s pretty far-fetched, but hey, your instincts have worked before, and it’s better than sitting here doing nothing. I got the impression that it’s not the angle the SFPD guys are going to be working from, so I don’t see that we’re cramping their style. 

“And if so be we get a few decent leads, then so be it. I don’t give a damn about treading on local toes if it gets results. Let’s do it!” 

Blair’s smile was wide and almost like his normal wattage as he jumped eagerly to his feet, so grateful that his lover was of the same mind, and prepared to act on his guide’s suggestions, however off-the-wall.  


\----------------------------  


**Shortly afterwards, the Reeves residence, Haight-Ashbury district:**  


As Jim and Blair approached the rambling, older property that housed Naomi’s friends, Blair turned to look up at his bigger lover, a thoughtful frown creasing his wide brow. “You know, Jim, I do recognise this place! I mean, it’s got to be a good few years since I was here last, but I remember it fairly well. I just hope that the Reeves remember me too, and are happy to talk about Naomi with us.” 

He needn’t have worried, because as soon as he rang the doorbell, the door was thrown open to reveal a plump, middle-aged woman who greeted them with a smile and a warm hug for Blair in the same uninhibited manner as Charlie’s. Pulling back enough to look into his face, her pretty brown eyes filled with tears as she murmured, “Oh, honey, I’m so, so sorry about your mom. We loved Naomi so very much! We simply couldn’t believe it when the cops told us she had been found in the bay. It’s so not fair, honey. Not for someone as peace-loving and vibrant as her!” 

As she was speaking, a tall, grey-haired man had appeared at her shoulder, his expression equally sombre as he reached around his wife to clasp Blair’s shoulder in tacit sympathy. Blair nodded and smiled sadly in gratitude, then glanced backward to grin slightly at Jim as he introduced his partner. 

“Thanks, Martha. And Seb. I appreciate your sentiments, truly. And I know how fond Naomi was of you both. 

“Um, can I introduce my partner, Jim Ellison? We don’t want to intrude, but we’d really appreciate it if we could talk to you a bit about mom…?” 

Stepping back a little so she could look up into Jim’s face, Martha smiled at him as she said, “Of course you can, honey! I’m just so pleased that you should want to come and see us. And it’s Detective Ellison, isn’t it? Naomi told us all about you two getting together, and I have to say that, her opinion of ‘the pigs’ notwithstanding, she had nothing but good things to say about you, Jim, so come in and be welcome!” 

As Jim and Blair followed their hosts into their home, Jim looked about him with interest, even as he quickly but carefully scanned the older couple. The house was clean and homely, if a little shabby, its décor reflecting the ethnicity of the neighbourhood. As for the Reeves, both of them were dressed in casually comfortable clothes which were unashamedly typical of Blair’s ‘aging hippy’ description, but Jim had no problem with that. They were both clearly glad to see Blair, and their welcome for him was without side, so he hoped that even if they had no useful information to offer, the visit would grant them and his lover some peace as they talked about their loss and shared their memories of Naomi. 

Settled in a huge, comfy sofa with a cup of fresh coffee each, Jim and Blair both found themselves relaxing in the undemanding company of the older couple, who had seated themselves side by side opposite them on a similar sofa. Martha was the talkative partner, happy to make up for her taciturn husband, who nevertheless gave off what Naomi would have called ‘good, positive vibes’. 

Smiling a little tearily at the Cascade men, Martha tilted her head on one side as she studied Blair with interest. “You know, honey, it’s got to be a good few years since we saw you last. I think it must have been more than ten years ago. You’d be about thirteen or fourteen, and already talking about wanting to go to Rainier to study. I’m so glad you got there, honey. Naomi was so proud of you!” 

Blair smiled rather bashfully at that, even though he was grateful for the older woman’s genuine affection. “Thanks, Martha. I do remember coming here – on several occasions over the years. Mom always had a special place in her heart for this town, and I can understand why.” 

Martha chuckled then as she said, “So I should hope, dear! After all, this is where her beloved son was born! You do know you were born here, in this very house, don’t you?” 

It was obvious by Blair’s reaction that no, he hadn’t known, and Jim couldn’t help but think rather uncharitably how typical that was of Naomi that she hadn’t even thought to tell him! The young man’s eyebrows rose to almost meet his hairline as his mouth dropped open in surprise. However, he recovered quickly enough, so perhaps it wasn’t such a big deal after all. Jim could but hope so, anyway. 

“Ah, no. No, I didn’t, Martha. But I guess that’s why I remember it so well, huh? It’s one of those things mom never really talked about, you know? Like, who my father was and all. To be honest, she always said that it didn’t matter. We had each other, and that was what counted.” 

Martha nodded at that, her expression rueful as she said, “Yes, that was Naomi for you. Always the free spirit. Frustrating sometimes, for sure, but such a beautiful soul. Just like her son.” 

The gentle reminiscing carried on for a while, Jim stomping ruthlessly down on his impatience since it was only too obvious how much benefit it was to all three of his companions. However, inevitably the conversation turned to the uncomfortable discussion concerning the probable cause of Naomi’s untimely death, the atmosphere in the room darkening noticeably with the depressing subject matter. 

It was at that point when Blair managed to slip in his question about artist acquaintances still living in the neighbourhood. He had worked with Jim long enough to know when not to jeopardise an investigation with carelessly leaked information so had tried to be as circumspect as possible, but both the Reeves were intelligent people, and weren’t slow to catch on even if they refrained from pushing Blair and Jim for an explanation of their interest in it as yet. 

Her face creased in concentration, Martha finally mused, “You know, honey, I can’t think of that many artists we know of still living and working around here. That’s not to say that there aren’t a whole lot of relatively new faces, but ones of Naomi’s and our generation are few and far between now. They’ve either given up on their ‘creative period’ and gotten serious about growing up and going mainstream, or they’ve moved on to pastures new. I can’t think off-hand of anyone Naomi might have recognised.” 

However, at that point a quiet but thoughtful voice spoke up as Seb offered his opinion. “There is one, Martha. What about Anton Bergstrom? I know we don’t see anything of him these days, but I know he’s still around. And Naomi would sure recognise him if she saw him!” he added darkly. 

Turning to address Jim and Blair, his gaze level and open, he continued candidly, “I don’t like to gossip or pass judgement on folks, but in this case it just might be justified. But you might as well know what we know – or think we know about this guy! See, back in the day, when ‘flower power’ was in full swing and we first moved in here, we had a group of friends move in too, like a small, loosely-knit commune, I guess. And Naomi was one of us. Just a teenager, and newly pregnant, but we all loved her so much. 

“But this guy, Anton Bergstrom, turned up on the doorstep, so to speak, but he never really settled in. He was a loud-mouth, and incredibly arrogant. Thought he was going to be the next Monet or Picasso to hear him talk. And he really pushed himself on the girls; not that it got him anywhere. I know he’d have liked to get with Naomi, but it wasn’t happening, and he finally got the message and left. And I can’t say we missed the guy. 

“Still, he stayed in the area, and I know he’s still painting. Takes his stuff down to sell at some tourist place. As far as I know, his studio is only a few blocks from here, so Naomi may well have met up with him on her way here. 

“But I’m not saying he did anything to her. I don’t want to cast aspersions. But since you asked, it’s just a thought, is all.” 

While he was talking, Martha had been watching them all, her expression one of consternation as she nodded reluctantly. “Seb’s right,” she murmured. “I’d forgotten about Anton. Or more like, just put him from my mind. Like Seb said, he wasn’t a nice man, and the girls kept him at bay. Even the more promiscuous of us! But it would be wrong to start pointing the finger just because he didn’t fit in with the group.” 

Jim spoke up then, wanting to put their minds at rest as much as he could. In all honesty, it sounded to him like a very plausible lead, and he could tell by Blair’s sudden interest that his intuitive partner thought so too. But it still wasn’t officially their investigation. Yet. 

“Don’t worry, Martha, Seb. It’s not as if we’re investigating the case, much as we’d like to. So unless it’s an angle that the SFPD cops are working on, no harm done.” 

Seb raised an eyebrow then, a tiny, knowing smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. “Sure, Jim. Whatever you say! But seriously, those SFPD detectives didn’t ask us anything like that. All they seemed to be concerned about was that we could confirm that we had arranged to meet and that Naomi hadn’t shown up as expected. Sounds to me like you two could do a better job of it. 

“Just hope you get the chance.” 

Not long after that, Jim and Blair said their goodbyes, thanking the couple for their hospitality and their information, and assuring them that they would let them know the outcome of the investigation as soon as they knew themselves, knowing that they would want to attend whatever funeral Naomi was finally allowed to have. 

Since they had arrived by cab, and having obtained Bergstrom’s address from the Reeves’ telephone directory, they decided to take a walk in the direction of his studio just to look it over. Or at least, that was what they had intimated to the Reeves. In actual fact, Jim was all for confronting the man if he was around, and he could tell by Blair’s nervous but resolute expression that he would back whatever decision Jim made. 

Since this was San Fran, and he knew that Blair would appreciate a little comfort and reassurance, Jim wrapped his arm snugly around the young man’s waist, grinning down into the upturned face as Blair willingly reciprocated. “You OK, babe? Are you sure you want to do this now? After all, it could be just a dead end, even if your theory eventually pans out.” 

Blair smiled sadly then, eyes still anxious, but grateful for all that. “Yes, Jim. Let’s do it. Like you said, this particular lead might be nothing, but for some reason my gut’s telling me different. That we might be onto something here. And if so, I don’t want to wait until Duquesne decides to act. I need to know, man. For Naomi’s sake. And if this guy’s got anything to hide, I trust you to be able to spot it.” 

Jim’s grin became fiercer then as he nodded in understanding. “Hope so, babe. These senses have to be good for something, and thanks to you, I’ve become a pretty good lie-detector, haven’t I? And I can also tell that there’s someone at home, babe,” he added, pointing to the yellow property that matched Bergstrom’s address. “Feeling lucky, punk?” he quipped menacingly, snickering when Blair mock-growled, “Where’s Dirty Harry when you need him?” 

As they approached the property, Blair murmured, “How do you want to do this, Jim? I’m thinking that I should just introduce myself and see what happens? I mean, you should be able to tell immediately if he reacts suspiciously after all. But if so, somehow I don’t think he’s going to invite us in, is he?” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Chief,” Jim replied. “As you say, it’ll be obvious to me if he’s got something to hide. And if so, then we’ll just have to come up with a good reason to convince Marietta and Duquesne to follow up on it. But I’m sure we can come up with something!” he added firmly. 

Blair nodded at that, his faith in Jim strengthening his resolve. Pulling apart a little, they climbed the short flight of steps to the property’s front door side by side, with Blair reaching up to ring the doorbell. He knew his heart was racing in nervous anticipation, but with Jim at his side he knew he could do this. 

It took a while before the door was answered, as Bergstrom had been working up in his studio, but it seemed even longer than it actually was to the anxious Blair. However, when it opened to reveal a tall, frowning and weathered figure, whose smock and hands were liberally covered in paint splotches, he pasted on his best smile and introduced himself. 

“Ah, Mr Bergstrom? I’m sorry to bother you, but I wondered if I might have a word? My name is Blair Sandburg. Naomi’s son--” 

And that’s as far as he got before the man galvanised into panicked and furious reaction, literally shoving the smaller man down the steps before Jim could stop him, and trying to slam the door in their faces. 

With roar of pure rage, Jim threw himself at Bergstrom, grabbing him by the front of his smock and throwing him backwards into the house, prepared to rip the bastard’s head from his shoulders for touching his mate. It was only the urgent need to check on Blair’s condition that saved the artist from sentinel vengeance there and then, as Jim quickly secured him with his own cuffs that he’d had the forethought to bring with him before bounding back down the steps to kneel beside his downed partner. 

Sliding his hand carefully under Blair’s neck, he gently patted his lover’s pale cheek with the other hand, murmuring worriedly, “You with me, babe? Where does it hurt?” He was most concerned about the unfocussed blue gaze that suggested that Blair was at least somewhat stunned by the fall, and sentinel sensitive fingers searched quickly and efficiently for heat and bumps beneath the abundant curls. However, to his great relief, the young man snapped back to awareness, only for a grimace of pain to twist the beloved features. 

“Oh, man! Oh, shit, Jim! I think my wrist’s bust! Landed awkwardly on it. And banged up my knee too! Shit, that hurts!” 

Relieved that at least his lover didn’t appear to have a head injury, Jim offered him a wry grin as he checked over the rest of Blair’s body. “Can’t take you anywhere, can I babe?” he murmured fondly. “The Cascade Trouble Magnet strikes again! But seriously, Chief, that bastard could have killed you! He’s lucky he’s still breathing!” 

Reaching up to grasp Jim’s forearm with his good hand, Blair asked worriedly, “Did you get him, Jim? Is he OK? I mean, you didn’t beat him to a pulp or anything? Don’t want you in any trouble, man.” 

Jim’s reply was grim as he met his lover’s anxious gaze. “No, babe, he’s still in one piece, but only because I needed to see to you. But I cuffed him so he’s not going anywhere. And just in case you couldn’t tell by his reaction,” he continued sardonically, “I can confirm that the senses convinced me he’s as guilty as sin!” 

Blair nodded then, his mind working busily even as he winced as Jim gently explored his already swelling knee. “Um, I’m supposing that this constitutes a good enough reason for searching his place then? I mean, once you’ve called it in, Homicide will make the connection, surely?” 

Jim grimaced then, his eyes bleak. “I’ll make damned sure they do, babe! And I want to be here when they go in. I think that Marietta might swing it, even if Duquesne - and Ramirez – don’t like it. 

“But right now I’m calling it in, and you’re getting checked out at the hospital, babe.” 

Holding his hand up when Blair automatically opened his mouth to protest, he said firmly, “I know, babe. I _know_ you hate hospitals! But if we want to make a good case for unprovoked assault, it’s as well to have your injuries officially catalogued, OK? I want as many charges to stick to this asshole as possible!” 

And of course, Blair had to agree with that. But he didn’t have to like it.  


\-----------------------  


**Part 6: Progress and Repercussions:**  


Unsurprisingly, the next few hours were somewhat chaotic as the emergency services followed up on Jim’s 911 call. When a unit arrived in response, it was to find a tall, fierce-looking Jim standing protectively over his shaky but disgruntled lover, who was now sitting on the steps waiting to be checked over by the EMS paramedics who were on their way. And since Jim had also made sure to call in to Marietta’s cell at the same time, the two SFPD inspectors arrived together shortly afterwards. 

As the first on the scene, the two uniformed cops’ suspicions were somewhat allayed when Jim had produced his badge, explaining that the cuffs on the suspect were his, and giving them a succinct description of the assault without going into further detail about why they were here in the first place. The full explanation could wait until they were interviewed by Duquesne and Montiguez. 

And as far as Jim was concerned, that unattractive proposition could also wait until he knew exactly how badly Blair was hurt. 

However, he knew that he’d have to give them something to work with so that they realised that Bergstrom was a Person of Interest in the murder investigation, and his property warranted searching by forensics. But as it turned out, he was saved the bother to a certain extent by Bergstrom himself. 

As the cops led the still-cuffed man over to their unit, intending to take him into custody for alleged aggravated assault in the first instance, the angry and frightened man had glared at Blair as he passed, pure hatred in his eyes as he spat out, “Wasn’t my fault! Whatever your whore of a mother might have thought, she wasn’t worth the effort! And neither are you!” 

His words weren’t lost on the SFPD detectives, who had just arrived at the scene closely followed by the paramedics who made an immediate bee-line for Blair. But it was obvious by the perplexed and downright furious expression – on Duquesne’s face at least – that the Cascade men had some ‘splainin’ to do, and fast. Although it was pretty clear to both Jim and Blair that Duquesne would have dearly liked to dismiss their presence here as mere coincidence, Bergstrom’s own words were enough to link him to the investigation, so he had no alternative but to tell the uniforms to deliver the suspect to their department for booking. 

As for Marietta, whatever frustration she might have been feeling at their interference took a back seat to her genuine concern for Blair’s welfare as she squatted down beside him. 

“Hey, Blair, you OK? What happened here? Did that guy do it?” 

Blair smiled wanly at her, his various aches and pains making themselves felt, especially when one of the paramedics started to check out his wrist. Wincing, he murmured, “Yeah, he did. Sorry, Marietta. I know you must be mad, but we were just checking out the neighbourhood. Visiting Naomi’s friends and showing Jim hers and my old haunts, you know? I mean, I just wanted to introduce myself to Bergstrom because I’d been told that he knew Naomi from way back, that’s all. And as soon as I told him my name, he went nutso and shoved me down the steps. So Jim restrained him.” He was well aware that it wasn’t the whole truth by any means, but he intended to obfuscate as much as necessary until he knew what Jim needed from him. 

Marietta plainly wasn’t entirely convinced at his explanation, but she didn’t push right now, knowing that she and her partner would no doubt be brought up to speed soon enough once they had both Jim and Blair downtown. So she nodded briskly, even as she slanted Blair a wry glance; not taken in at all by his wide-eyed innocent act, but not about to call him on it yet until he had been properly checked over and treated. Patting his shoulder amicably, she rose to her feet and headed back to join the other two, hoping to stave off any impending fireworks between Duquesne and Ellison. 

Relieved that Marietta seemed to have given him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now, Blair’s attention was taken up by the medic who told him what he had already guessed. “Your wrist’s broken, sir, and should be set as soon as possible. And you’d better have that knee X rayed also. It could be just a sprain, but better safe than sorry.” 

Blair offered him a rueful grin. “Yeah, thanks, man. I understand. As soon as my partner gets the go-ahead we can be off.” 

Inwardly, he was laughing himself silly for actually agreeing to go to the dreaded ER for once without a whole lot of complaining, but in this instance he really wanted to be away from Duquesne’s ill-tempered presence for a while. And things looked as if they might well go from bad to worse when another unmarked sedan rolled up to disgorge a very unhappy looking Captain Ramirez. 

_Oh, shit, looks like we’re in for it now!_ he thought glumly, his main worry being that Jim might lose his cool and come out with something they’d both regret. But luckily it appeared that his lover was prepared to keep a lid on his temper as far as possible, even though the effort to do so might be obvious only to his doting partner. Nevertheless, when the irate captain confronted Jim, the sentinel merely nodded in greeting, his face a picture of calm and studied innocence. 

“Care to tell me what exactly is going on here, _Detective Ellison?”_ the older man growled, hands on hips and looking like nothing so much as a frustrated teacher berating a recalcitrant student. “How is it that you just happen to be in this neighbourhood in the first place, let alone dropping by on the one person who might turn out to be my guys’ perp? What have you got to say for yourself?” 

To his credit, Jim maintained his calm outward demeanour as he met and held the captain’s gaze steadily, his expression inscrutable as he began. “We were in the neighbourhood for a perfectly legitimate reason. To allow Blair to meet up with his mom’s friends in order to commiserate and share their memories of the deceased. And since Blair has fond memories of the city also, he wanted to show me around some. 

“But as for how we came to call on Anton Bergstrom, I’ll be happy to explain fully once Blair has been checked over. As soon as he’s released, we’ll come to the department and make our statements, OK? In the meantime, suffice it to say that you should be looking closely at him as Naomi’s killer, and get his place checked out.” 

Needless to say, Ramirez looked less than placated by Jim’s calm delivery, but the adamant gleam in the Cascade detective’s eyes warned him that it would be wise to step back a little for now. 

But only until the pair was back in his department, and then he’d make damned sure they told him and his people everything they knew.   


\----------------------------  


Some while later, Jim was to be found standing beside the gurney where his doleful partner was sitting, waiting to be discharged from Mercy Hospital’s ER. His left wrist was in a cast, and his sprained left knee wrapped in a brace, and he was miserably aware that he’d need at least one crutch for a while in order to get about. Having said that, the remainder of his injuries only amounted to a fair amount of bruising over much of the rest of his body, and mercifully this time he had no concussion or other head injury to worry about. 

“How’re you doing, babe?” Jim murmured solicitously, as eager as his lover to escape from the hospital now he knew the extent of Blair’s hurts. “Are you going to be up to going straight to the PD, or do you want to go back to the hotel? I can go alone if you want, but we do need to make a statement if we’re to make certain that Bergstrom stays in custody for as long as he can legally be held.” 

Blair sent him a disbelieving look as he answered, not even having to think about his response. “Are you kidding me, man? Of course I don’t want to go back to the hotel. And no way are you going to face Duquesne and Ramirez on your own! I can see the headlines now. ‘Open Warfare Breaks Out in SFPD!’ 

“Seriously, though, Jim, I need to see this through. You can understand that, can’t you?” 

Jim grinned ruefully then as he patted Blair’s shoulder. “Yes, I can, babe. And you’re probably right about needing to be there to help me keep a lid on my temper. That Duquesne asshole just gets my back up. 

“Anyhow, I think the doc’s here, so let’s get your walking – uh, _hopping_ \- papers, and get a cab to the precinct house.”   


\------------------------  


**Shortly afterwards, Homicide Department Interview Room:**  


Sitting side by side, Jim and Blair faced Captain Ramirez and Inspectors Duquesne and Montiguez across a scuffed table, and Blair at least felt uncomfortably like a suspect about to be interrogated. His self-confidence wasn’t helped by his present discomfort and general feeling of malaise, but he was determined not to give in to his desire to wimp out. The last thing he needed was for Jim to go into full BPS mode before they’d even started. Although Marietta Montiguez had made the effort to ask after his current status, the looks on the other men’s faces were disapproving to say the least. And he also suspected that he was going to have his work cut out to do what Jim had sardonically mentioned previously – as in helping the big cop to keep his cool under such potentially hostile conditions. 

As soon as they had seated themselves, Duquesne had rudely shoved Jim’s cuffs across the table, muttering sarcastically, “Yours, I believe!” and that set the tone for the rest of the session, at least as far as he was concerned. 

Although he sent his ill-mannered subordinate a somewhat admonishing glare, Ramirez was obviously still intent on impressing on the two Cascade men his profound irritation at their presumption in interfering with the investigation in the face of his orders to the contrary. 

“So, Detective Ellison, I believe you promised us a full explanation for your actions which led to Mr Sandburg’s unfortunate assault. Please go ahead. We’re all ears!” 

Jim and Blair exchanged a speaking glance, and Blair knew Jim was tacitly asking him for permission to start the ball rolling. Offering his lover a tiny grin and almost imperceptible nod of approval, he sat back and prepared to listen and offer any additional information as and when required. Under these particular circumstances, he trusted in Jim’s professionalism under fire, whereas right now his own self-confidence was at its lowest ebb. 

Looking like the epitome of stoicism, Jim sat back in his seat, arms folded casually across his chest as he met and held each of the other three listeners’ intent gazes steadily in turn. The only hint of his inner aggravation was noticeable to Blair alone, and that was in the tightness in the bigger man’s jaw. 

However, Jim had no intention of losing his cool – not yet, anyway – so he took a deep, cleansing breath and began. “Captain Ramirez, Inspectors, I dare say that whatever we claim, you’re not going to be happy about it, but I’m going to say here and now that I don’t believe that Blair and I were in the wrong. As Blair has already told Inspector Montiguez, we were visiting with the friends Naomi Sandburg had intended to stay with, which we were perfectly entitled to do. After all, Martha and Sebastian Reeves are not under suspicion, and were great friends of the deceased, and of Blair also. Turns out he was actually born in their house,” he added, with a small smile for his partner, “and I might add that the chance to talk about Naomi with some of her oldest friends did all of them the world of good. 

“Anyhow, now we come to the relevant part as far as you’re concerned. Blair wondered if it was possible that his mom had met someone she knew while on the way to the Reeves’ house. You need to understand that even if she still espoused the whole hippy culture, she was an extremely well-travelled, worldly-wise and intelligent woman, and not naïve, so it figured she would never have gone off willingly with a complete stranger. 

“Since we were already aware that Naomi had been found with traces of acrylic paint under her fingernails, it occurred to us that she might have met up with an artist of some sort, and as it happened, the Reeves couple mentioned Anton Bergstrom as the only one they could think of who Naomi would have met before, back in the 60s when she was living with them. 

“So we thought we’d check it out. Not necessarily as a potential lead, but to pass on the news of her death, in case he was interested. Because from what Martha Reeves said, it appears that he had been keen to get to know her better back then. 

“And as you now know, as soon as Blair introduced himself, Bergstrom reacted immediately and violently and literally threw him down the steps before I could stop him. So I restrained him, went to check on Blair, and called it in. 

“You heard for yourselves what he said to Blair when he was being led away, and if that doesn’t constitute at least a partial admission of guilt, I don’t know what does.” 

He sat back then, offering Blair a reassuring grin when the smaller man surreptitiously reached over to pat his knee, and then they both waited impatiently to hear what the response to his statement would be. 

It was Marietta who spoke first, although she sent an apologetic glance in Ramirez’ direction as she did so. Although undoubtedly somewhat sceptical, nevertheless her expression was sympathetic when she addressed Blair directly. “I don’t want to cast aspersions on Detective Ellison’s version of the facts, Blair, but does it match with yours? For the sake of clarity?” 

Blair nodded and donned his most earnest expression as he said, “Yes, Inspector. That’s how it was. The fact that Bergstrom is an artist was a tenuous link at best, so neither of us really expected that reaction. Or to get that lucky!” he added dryly with a rueful glance at his injured wrist. 

Marietta regarded him intently for a long moment, and Blair had to clamp down on the urge to squirm in his seat, but eventually she nodded pensively. “Well, whether or not it was brilliant detective work, pure instinct or merely happenstance and dumb luck, it looks like you might have found your mom’s killer, Blair. But you both know that it won’t be as simple as that. He’s in custody as we speak, on a lesser charge of allegedly causing grievous bodily harm in an unprovoked attack, but obviously we can’t hold him forever despite his off-the-record remarks to you. We need enough reason to charge him with Naomi’s death, whether accidental or otherwise, and we need his confession. Plus enough trace evidence in case it goes to trial. 

“So I guess the place to start is by searching his place. Do you agree, sir?” she added, addressing Ramirez directly. And it didn’t escape either Jim or Blair’s notice that she hadn’t once appeared to acknowledge her partner. It could well be that they were witnessing yet another doomed partnership heading for the rocks. 

Needless to say, the Homicide captain had been watching and listening to the proceedings intently, and it appeared that; despite his affront at his uninvited guests’ determined intrusion into the workings of his department and his personal comfort zone; he was professional enough to at least consider their input. Especially as Marietta Montiguez was prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt. 

And it had to be said that it hadn’t escaped his notice either that Marietta appeared to be done with trying to deal with the misanthropic Duquesne, and that didn’t bode well for the man remaining in his unit for much longer. If Marietta had had enough as a last resort, then it was past time for someone else to have to deal with his abrasive and self-centred ‘tude. 

But that unwelcome administrative problem aside, it was time to act on what he had just heard. Nodding reluctantly, he addressed both Cascade men, including Marietta in his proposal. The silently glowering Duquesne he would deal with later. 

“OK, so this is how it’s going to be. I’m still not happy at the way you two’ve acted, and I’ll be apprising your Captain Banks of my displeasure soon enough, old friendship notwithstanding. But right now I agree that we need to move quickly on Bergstrom, so we’ll get the search of his premises organised without delay. And if there is trace evidence to back up your claim, we’ll see what we can wring out of him in terms of a confession. 

“So, let’s get on with it, people!” 

Just then, to his disgust, Blair felt the room dip and sway, and had to clutch the table with his good hand to stop himself falling off his chair. Jim was there immediately, holding him up and checking him over, even as he muttered worriedly, “Whoa there, Chief. Hitting you all at once, huh? It’s hardly surprising, the day you’ve had. We’re going back to the hotel - no arguments – and you’re going to get something to eat and rest up. You’ve had nothing since breakfast and precious little even then.” 

For once it didn’t even occur to Blair to argue, because he really did feel dreadful. And he knew that Jim hadn’t had anything to eat either, even though he had had a substantial breakfast, so it seemed like a sensible plan, if not for himself, but for his sentinel. 

His expression uncharacteristically meek and apologetic, he simply nodded slightly in assent. “Sure, Jim. Whatever you say, man. Not arguing!” 

And that statement in itself was enough to convince Jim that his normally feisty partner really was feeling bad, so he carefully lifted Blair to his feet, supporting the smaller man as he swayed a little. 

And then Marietta was at Blair’s other side. “Come on, guys, I’m driving you back,” she declared firmly. And neither man was about to turn her generous offer down.  


\---------------------------  


A little later, huddled next to Jim in the back seat of Marietta’s sedan, Blair roused enough to meet her glance in the rear view mirror. As per usual, it was in his nature to put other folks’ problems ahead of his own, and there was something that was niggling at his conscience. 

“Ah, Marietta, can I ask you a question?” he murmured diffidently. 

“Sure, Blair. Fire away,” she replied cheerfully enough. “You feeling OK back there?” 

Knowing that Jim was watching him with interest, Blair grinned weakly. “Yeah, not too bad, honestly. But what I was wondering was whether we’ve created a problem for you. Like, causing bad feeling between you and Inspector Duquesne? I mean, if we have, I’m sorry. Really,” and the genuine contrition on his face and in his tone was clear to see. 

Although she was concentrating on her driving, Marietta glanced in her mirror again briefly and grinned ruefully as she replied honestly, “It’s OK, Blair. Don’t blame yourself. Or you either, Jim. OK, Frank doesn’t appreciate your presence for sure, and he certainly won’t like it if your theory checks out, but this has been coming for a while. I’ve tried to cut him as much slack as possible, but honestly, I’ve had enough, and his behaviour towards you as a victim, Blair, is the last straw as far as I’m concerned. I’m going to ask Ramirez for a change of partner, and it’s up to him whether he can find someone else prepared to work with Frankie. Because I don’t want to anymore. 

“Does that answer your question? Put your mind at rest?” 

Having just then arrived at the hotel, she pulled into the drop-off zone and turned to face him properly, a quizzical grin on her face. And was rewarded by a glimpse of the real Sandburg smile, the relief in Blair’s tone obvious as he said, “Yes, Marietta, it really does. Thanks, inspector. For the ride and for believing in us.” 

“No problem, Blair, Jim. So, you two get something to eat and _you_ rest up!” she ordered mock-fiercely as she pointed at Blair, “and I’ll see what I can do about getting Jim into Bergstrom’s place with me, if that’s what you want?” 

Jim’s smile was wide and grateful then as he replied, “Thanks, Marietta, that would be great. I would really appreciate it, especially in view of my unofficial status. As long as it won’t cause more problems for you?” 

“Nah, it’ll be fine,” she replied with a wicked grin. “Roberto Ramirez is no pushover, but he can be persuaded. And I seem to know just how to do that!” 

With that, Jim and Blair thanked her again, and Jim helped his wilting lover out of the back seat. As they made their slow way to the hotel entrance, she called out, “I’ll call you when I’m going to Bergstrom’s, OK, Jim? And I’ll drop by to pick you up!” 

Jim acknowledged her offer with a grateful smile and a wave, and then concentrated on getting Blair inside. His top priority now was to get his hurting partner fed and lying down, the young man’s unnatural silence and pallor indicating that he was once again running on fumes.  


\------------------------  


It was early evening in what felt like one hell of a long day when Marietta picked Jim up from the hotel to drive to Bergstrom’s place. As soon as he had gotten Blair into their room and settled him on the small but surprisingly comfortable sofa, he had phoned down to Room Service and ordered a double cheeseburger with everything for himself and a fish sandwich with fries for Blair. For once he wasn’t going to worry about saturated fats with his stomach feeling as if his throat had been cut, and Blair needed something more substantial than soup and salad. 

While waiting for it to be delivered, he had gently tended to his injured lover, glad to be able to ease some of the discomfort in his knee with careful sentinel-sensitive massage, and pleased that for once Blair was too tired to complain when Jim urged him to take one of the painkillers the ER doctor had prescribed for him. 

When the food arrived, he had managed to rouse enough to eat most of his meal, and then allowed Jim to undress him and tuck him into bed with pillows positioned to support wrist and knee. 

Gazing up at Jim with slightly doped-up eyes, he had smiled wanly as he murmured, “Thanks, Jim. For taking such good care of me. I don’t deserve you, man.” 

To which Jim had replied smartly, “No you don’t, Chief, not when I’m being a cranky, controlling asshole, at least. But you _do_ deserve some pampering at times like these, babe! And I for one am only too glad to do the honours. Think of how many times you’ve been there for me, lover. Too many to count, so it’s as well we’re not keeping score! 

“But seriously, babe, I want you to get some rest while I go to the crime scene with Marietta. Because I believe that that is what it’ll turn out to be. And don’t worry,” he added quickly, when anxious blue eyes widened and Blair opened his mouth to comment. “I promise I won’t go too deep with the senses, lover. After all this time you’ve trained me well enough to use them to a reasonable extent by myself, and as long as I take one of your hair ties with me in case I need some extra ‘Blair-scent’, I’ll be fine. You know I’ll only extend myself when you’re with me, OK?” 

Blair hadn’t looked too happy, but in truth he had known that he wasn’t up to going out again, and in the feeble condition he was in right then, he had understood he would be more hindrance than help. And by now he knew to trust Jim to keep his promises, so he had reluctantly nodded in assent. In fact, by the time Marietta called up for Jim from the hotel foyer, Blair had been deeply asleep and dead to the world, and didn’t even notice when Jim dropped a soft kiss on his brow and let himself out of the room. 

So now they were driving back to Bergstrom’s house, with Marietta filling Jim in on what had transpired since he and Blair had left the PD. Apparently, Ramirez had been happy to expedite obtaining the warrant to search the suspect’s premises, letting it be known that he wanted the case cleared up a.s.a.p. so as to get the Cascade duo out of his department and out of his hair. But Marietta claimed that she was sure that his grumpiness was just for show, and that he really did empathise with Blair. And Jim silently concurred with her candidly offered opinion; that it would take a real misanthrope such as Duquesne not to feel fond of and protective towards that young man, and despite his stern demeanour and overt irritation, Ramirez didn’t strike the sentinel as the type to be completely immune to Blair’s undisputed charms. 

Marietta went on to say that, hearing that he was being held on suspicion of the unlawful killing of Naomi Sandburg as well as alleged assault on her son, Bergstrom had demanded his right to have a lawyer present and hadn’t said a word since. Seeing as it hadn’t been possible to procure one at that hour, his interrogation would be carried out in the morning instead, but hopefully by that time the police would have some concrete evidence to back up the charges. 

Jim nodded thoughtfully at that, then said, “Thanks for the update, Marietta. We both appreciate your cooperation and sympathetic support. And I’m truly grateful for your influence in getting me into the crime scene, as I’m certain that that’s what it’ll turn out to be. But at risk of over-stretching your goodwill, do you think that I would be able to watch the interview? Only from the observation room, of course. To be honest, it probably wouldn’t be wise to let me within touching distance of that piece of shit! But I’d like to be able to tell Blair what he has to say. The kid needs closure, even if it’s painful to hear.” 

Marietta glanced over at him then, a frown of concern creasing her brow. “I’m not sure, Jim, to tell the truth. I mean, it wouldn’t bother me, and I can understand why you want to be there. As a cop yourself you’ll want to know the outcome even if it’s not your case. But do you think that Blair’ll let you attend on your own? Seems to me that he’ll demand to be there too, and I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea.” 

Jim grimaced wryly at that. “You probably have a point there, Marietta. He’s a stubborn little cuss as a rule, and he’s as protective of me as I am of him. But anyway, since we’ve arrived, I’ll hold that thought until I hear from you one way or another, OK? He doesn’t need to have another thing to stress about if Captain Ramirez won’t allow it anyhow.” 

Marietta nodded then. “Fair enough, Jim. So, let’s go see what we can find, huh?” 

As the two approached the house, they could see the CSU techs getting kitted up ready to go in. However, Jim’s mouth tightened in irritation and Marietta huffed a resigned sigh as they saw Duquesne coming down the steps. “Sorry, Jim,” she murmured. “It’s still officially his case too, so I guess I can’t complain. Better see if he’s found anything,” and she moved ahead to greet her probably soon-to-be ex-partner. 

His face creased into its habitual frown, Duquesne just nodded at her, and flicked a dismissive glance over at Jim. “Nothing to see,” he began abruptly. “Not surprising since it’s nearly a week since the vic disappeared. Bergstrom would be a fool not to clean up. So you might as well wait until the experts get through rather than waste your time showing _him_ around.” 

Marietta didn’t even both to try and appease him this time. She simply said crisply, “That’s OK, Frankie. It’s my time to waste, so we’ll just go and take a look-see for ourselves. See you around!” and with that she beckoned to Jim with a smile and turned to climb the steps to the front door. 

Jim met Duquesne’s angry glare with a steely one of his own, offering just the briefest of nods as he walked on, leaving the seething cop watching him go. 

As the pair entered the house, Jim surreptitiously clutched Blair’s hair tie which was in his pocket. Despite his promise to his guide not to try and go too deep without Blair’s physical backup, he knew that he was feeling the effects of some hard days and relatively sleepless nights, so he’d have to be even more careful if he wasn’t to risk zoning. And hopefully the feel and scent of his beloved guide on the leather tie would be sufficient for him to function safely and at least adequately. 

However, as they moved first into what was plainly Bergstrom’s living room, Jim stopped dead just inside the doorway. He knew instinctively that this was where the assault had gone down, and although he was peripherally aware of Marietta’s quizzical gaze, he concentrated on picking out the evidence to prove it. Carefully dialling up his sight and sense of smell, he studied the room’s interior, soon spotting an area of the hardwood floor partly covered by a newish-looking rug. “There,” he said, pointing it out to Marietta. “See where that bit of floor is much cleaner than the surrounding area? Looks like it’s been scrubbed recently, and that rug looks like a new addition to the room. Wouldn’t be a bit surprised if a squirt or two of luminol doesn’t pick up some residual blood splatter.” 

Marietta’s eyebrows rose in incredulity, but to her credit she didn’t question his statement, just nodded and murmured, “OK, Jim. What else?” 

Pointing to the chest of drawers in the corner behind the suspect area, Jim nodded in grim satisfaction. “Can you get the CSU guy in here?” he said, pulling on the pair of latex gloves Marietta had given him earlier. “I think that that’s the object that did the damage to Naomi’s skull. See?” and he moved forward, pointing out but not touching a tiny reddish hair caught in the rough grain of the chest’s sharp corner. “I think that might well turn out to be Naomi’s,” he murmured. 

Marietta was frankly amazed now, but she wasn’t knocking it. This was almost too good to be true, but she’d take whatever help she could get and be thankful for it. 

Quickly turning to beckon the two CSU techs who had entered the building, she quietly asked them to follow Jim’s directions before standing back to watch them at work. While one sprayed the area Jim indicated with luminol, the other took out a set of tweezers and carefully removed and bagged the tiny hair, his expression frankly awed when he nodded to Jim. “Well spotted, sir,” he murmured as he filled in the details on the baggie to maintain the chain of custody. “You’ve got excellent eyesight there!” 

Jim simply nodded nonchalantly. “Thanks. Yeah, it comes in handy at times like these,” and he left it at that, now interested to see that the luminol definitely picked up faint signs of blood spatter both on the floor and more on the side of the chest of drawers, which must have escaped Bergstrom’s notice during the clean-up. 

Moving to his side, Marietta said, “Great catch, Jim. If that blood and hair turn out to be Ms Sandburg’s, it looks like a slam-dunk for at least unlawful killing. Do you want to carry on looking?” 

Jim smiled down at her, his ice blue eyes somewhat melancholy, because after all, this was the likely site of his guide’s mom’s untimely death in which they were standing. 

“Yeah, if it’s all right with you, I’ll carry on. Can’t say I think much of the asshole’s artwork, huh?” he added in morbid humour. 

“Nah, you’re right, Jim,” Marietta agreed. “I guess it’s the sort of tacky locally-produced stuff that might sell in cheap tourist shops, but I can’t see any of this selling to discerning customers of respectable galleries, can you?” 

However, she saw that she had lost his attention again as he approached the huge canvas on the wall facing the chest of drawers. She looked on in fascination as he carefully peered at one corner of it. 

“You know,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I think this picture’s been moved recently from over there,” and he pointed to the opposite wall where a smaller canvas hung. “I can see the faint outline on the wall where the paint’s faded a bit, so I think they’ve been swapped around. And that would make sense if this…” and he pointed to an area of the larger canvas “turns out to be where Naomi caught it on her way down. 

“See,” he continued, pointing it out to an intrigued Marietta, and the two techs. “This seems to have been recently touched up, right here. And the corner of the canvas looks like it’s very slightly damaged, as if it fell off the wall. Or was knocked off. If the acrylic from this canvas matches the traces found in Naomi’s fingernails, it could be even more proof.” 

By the time he finished describing his thought processes, all three of his listeners were grinning broadly. 

“That’s fantastic, Jim! We’ll bag up this canvas also and get it to the lab. Looks like Bergstrom has some explaining to do, huh?” 

Marietta was beaming at him by then, apparently totally blown away by his expertise, and not inclined to question it, not yet, at least. Jim had to hope that it stayed that way, knowing he didn’t have the same talent for obfuscation as his guide when it came to explaining away the senses. 

However, by then he knew that it wouldn’t be wise to try and push himself any further without his guide present, as he already had a low-grade headache and the smell of all the artist’s materials that permeated the property was getting to him. It was time to dial everything down as best he could and hope that he had given Marietta enough to work with. 

Luckily the inspector was both observant and empathic, and she frowned in concern when his features tightened up in mute discomfort. “You OK, Jim? You look like you could do with a break, so what say I run you back to the hotel? You’ve done us a great service today, and now I’m thinking you need to go see Blair and get some rest yourself, OK?” 

Jim grinned ruefully as he nodded in grateful agreement. “Thanks, Marietta. If you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on that offer. Glad to be of service, but I need to get back to Blair. See how he’s doing, you know? Hopefully you’ve got enough evidence to be going on with now, provided it all pans out as we hope.” 

“I’m certain it will, Jim, and now let’s shake a leg. Get you back to Blair’s side where you belong!” and with a wide grin she ushered him from the house, pleased to note incidentally that Duquesne had already left.  


\------------------------  


Marietta dropped Jim off outside the hotel, thanking him yet again for his input and promising to keep him and Blair in the loop as regards the forensic analyses and when Bergstrom’s interrogation was to take place. She regretted not being able to confirm yet if Jim at least could listen in, but said that she hoped she could swing it. 

Although it wasn’t that late, Jim felt weary and stressed, and needed to see his guide and lover, the yearning for the young man’s comforting and grounding presence uppermost in his mind as he took the elevator up to the second floor. As he walked down the corridor towards #262, he automatically sent out his hearing, relieved to hear his lover’s steady heartbeats, indicating that the young man was still sleeping. Quietly opening the door, Jim looked over at the bed, a fond smile on his face as he took in the charming picture of his dead-to-the-world guide. Blair’s curls were spread out on the pillow beneath his head, the peaceful face and slightly open mouth coupled with his beard stubble making him look like a slightly debauched Botticelli angel. Jim was glad that the young man was still out for the count, knowing that it probably had a lot to do with the pain meds he had taken. As someone who resisted taking any sort of medication if at all possible, when he was forced to resort to them, they had a much stronger effect on him than normal, but in this case it was a good thing. He desperately needed the rest, and Jim sincerely hoped that it would be beneficial to his beloved guide’s healing of both mind and body. 

Crossing the room, Jim decided that he would make the most of an early night also. He was also feeling the effects of stress and fatigue, and the thought of a good night’s sleep with Blair in his arms was very appealing. However, just as he was heading for the bathroom to take care of business prior to stripping off, the hotel telephone rang. With a muttered curse, Jim grabbed it before the second ring, not wanting it to waken Blair. 

Luckily, however, the young man slept on undisturbed, so Jim answered quietly, “Ellison. Who’s this?” 

The caller turned out to be Charlie, and Jim sighed in resignation. He could hardly blame the other man for wanting to hear how the day had gone, and by the sound of it, he was plainly upset. However, there was no way he could have a long conversation without disturbing Blair, so he quietly told Charlie that he’d meet him in the bar downstairs, but only for long enough to catch him up on the day’s developments. He still intended to get that full night’s sleep, and had no intention of staying up any longer than necessary. 

When he arrived at the bar, Charlie was already there, and by the state of him, Jim felt a tad guilty about the uncharitable thoughts he’d been entertaining on his way down. Charlie jumped to his feet as soon as he saw Jim, saying urgently, “How’s Blair? I had a ‘hit’ this morning, and I knew something was wrong! Is he OK?” 

Jim made a calming gesture, and sat down, urging Charlie to do the same. “He’s OK, Charlie. Well, pretty much, luckily. He got shoved down some steps by the man we think attacked Naomi. He’s banged up, has a broken wrist and sprained knee, but he’s OK. Just resting upstairs, which is why I said I’d meet you down here. But I need some sleep too, so if you don’t mind, we’ll keep this short, all right?” 

Greatly relieved, Charlie nodded earnestly. “Thanks, Jim. I understand, and I’m so glad Blair’s going to be OK. But you said you thought you’d got the killer? If you can just give me the basics, I’ll be happy, honestly.” 

“Fair enough, Charlie. You deserve to know, so anyhow, this is what we learned today,” and Jim quickly and succinctly described the day’s events, the lure of his bed ensuring that he didn’t waste any potential cuddling time.   


\-----------------------------  


**Part 7: Confessions and Closure:**  


**Thursday Morning:**  


It was around 7.00 am the following morning when Blair finally roused, having slept solidly for a good twelve hours. And in all honesty, he would have happily turned over and carried on dozing if not for two very good reasons. Firstly, his stressed bladder was telling him it urgently needed relief, and secondly, he couldn’t have turned over if he’d have wanted to, having stiffened up considerably during the night. However, even as he contemplated trying to ease himself out of the bed to avail himself of the bathroom facilities, he felt a gentle hand caress his cheek. 

“Hey, babe, you need some help there? Let me just come around to your side of the bed, and I’ll lift you up, OK?” 

Blair couldn’t help but smile ruefully up at the concerned but loving expression on the handsome face leaning over him. “Thanks, man. Yes, I do need some help, I’m afraid. I can’t seem to move, and I need the bathroom in the worst way.” 

“No problem, Chief,” said Jim with a fond grin as he pushed himself up and out of bed and trotted around to Blair’s side. “Let me get my arm under your shoulders, and I’ll ease you up and around, OK? But you tell me if it hurts, babe!” 

In actual fact, for the first few moments, Blair’s aches and pains hurt like an SOB, but he tried not to groan too loudly as he didn’t want to appear more pathetic than he felt. Not that he’d have been able to fool sentinel senses anyway, but it was a matter of pride. 

Once the smaller man was finally fully upright, Jim offered him an apologetic grin and then swept him up into his powerful arms. “Sorry if this upsets your sense of decorum, babe, but I thought it best if you get to the bathroom sooner rather than later, hey? You can bawl me out after you’ve taken care of business.” 

Blair would have normally taken him up on that, complaining bitterly of feeling emasculated, but in this instance, he was actually quite grateful even if he wouldn’t openly admit it. So all he said when Jim placed him carefully back on his feet beside the commode was, “Ah, thanks, man. Um, I can take it from here, honest.” 

“OK, babe, but give me a shout if you want help coming back. I’ll get a pot of coffee going, OK?” and Jim left him in peace, although for once he didn’t dial down his hearing, his need to know if Blair had slipped and taken a tumble overriding his normal respect for his guide’s privacy. 

In the bathroom, Blair decided on safety and practicality as he lifted the toilet lid and sat down carefully, sighing with relief as he was able to finally let go. Once finished, he pulled himself upright by clutching the vanity with his good hand, balancing slightly precariously as he washed his hands, taking care not to wet his cast. However, even a tentative test warned him that his knee wasn’t going to cooperate, so he braced himself against the vanity and called, “Ah, Jim? A little help, please?” 

A second later, Jim was at his side, only this time he didn’t pick his lover up, but instead wrapped a supportive arm around his waist so he could hop over to the bed. Once there, Blair settled down again with a sigh and smiled up at his big lover. “Thanks, man. I needed that! But I’m not sure how I’m going to shower this morning. And I really do need one. I’m pretty ripe here!” 

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” Jim replied. “We’ll manage just fine. If you let me do most of the work, and wrap something around your cast so it doesn’t get wet, we’ll be good to go. Do you want to have some breakfast delivered to the room, or do you want to go down to the dining room? Whatever works for you, babe.” 

Blair grinned gratefully up at him as he stretched out his good hand for the cup of coffee Jim held out to him. “If you don’t mind, Jim, I think I’d prefer to eat up here. I want to hear all you can tell me about how you got on yesterday evening while I was dead to the world.” 

“Sounds like a plan, babe, so how about we get showered and dressed once you’ve finished your coffee, I’ll call room service, then I’ll catch you up on everything.”  


\------------------------  


A short while later the two men sat at the room’s small table, companionably tucking in to the breakfast of fresh coffee, OJ, Danish and fruit that had just been delivered. At least, Jim was tucking in, and Blair was doing his best not to worry his mate by getting as much down him as he felt able. He did actually feel much better, having thoroughly enjoyed their shower together. Jim had been nothing but gently solicitous as he had tenderly washed and shaved his guide, taking great care to not get the cast wet even as he caressed and comforted his hurting and fragile partner. Although he hadn’t initially intended to deliberately arouse the younger man, Blair’s needy moan and pleading look had been enough to convince him otherwise, and he had made the gentlest of love to Blair; both of them relishing the much-needed release and renewed connection. And now, having been caught up on everything that had happened while he had been out of it yesterday evening, Blair was deep in thought as he pondered on what the coming day would bring. 

“You OK over there, babe? Penny for them?” Jim asked kindly, reaching over to clasp Blair’s hand. 

Blair’s smile was loving but not unsurprisingly still lacking in its usual wattage as he responded. “Just wondering what we can expect today, lover. I mean, you did so well yesterday gathering trace evidence, surely they’ll be charging Bergstrom with something other than just shoving me down the steps? I just need to know, man. To know that the investigation is going to reach an acceptable conclusion. I know that Naomi would never preach revenge for any reason, but does it make me a bad person that I want it? For her sake?” 

Jim squeezed the hand under his as he answered fervently, “No, babe. It doesn’t. There’s no way you’re a bad person, love. Naomi was right to be proud of you and your achievements, and as far as I’m concerned, you have to be one of the most empathic and charitable men I’ve ever known. 

“But wanting justice for a loved one is completely normal and understandable, babe. I mean, I’m thinking that you aren’t talking about torture or some such, huh? Just punishment to fit the crime.” 

Blair smiled sadly then. “Thanks, Jim. For your confidence in me. And you’re right. I don’t want to see Bergstrom burned at the stake or anything, but I do want to see justice done. I just hope that today will bring some hope that the Homicide people are doing their job.” 

“For what it’s worth, babe, I think that they’ll do whatever they have to do. Sure, if it were just down to Duquesne, I’d be having serious doubts simply because the man’s such a miserable asshole, and whatever Marietta says about his capability, I think he’s the type to let his prejudices cloud his judgement, but I’m confident that Marietta will be doing her utmost to see this thing through to a satisfactory conclusion. She’s very taken with you, Chief, which is perfectly understandable,” he added with an affectionate grin, “but not only that, she’s a dedicated cop, and won’t take any nonsense from her partner. And it seems that she has a fair bit of influence with Ramirez also, so even if everything goes to hell in a hand basket, it won’t be because of lack of effort on her part.” 

Blair’s smile was slightly happier then. “I hope you’re right, Jim. I mean, I trust your judgement as regards Marietta’s good intentions. And her investigative ability. It’s just that I didn’t get a good impression from Duquesne at all, and to be honest, Captain Ramirez didn’t seem that sympathetic either. Just more concerned about us interfering with his teamwork. Whatever, I hope we hear something soon.” 

Jim nodded then. “Me too, babe. Marietta said that Bergstrom was getting lawyered up, and should be being questioned this morning. Sure would like to be there, but I’m not holding out too much hope.” 

Blair opened his mouth to respond when they were both distracted by the sound of Jim’s cell phone ringing. Exchanging quizzical glances, Jim quickly reached for the instrument murmuring, “It’s Marietta, Chief. Let’s hope it’s good news,” and he raised it to his ear, identifying himself then listening intently. 

Although Blair couldn’t hear what was being said, the predatory grin on his lover’s face was enough to suggest that Jim was more than satisfied by what Marietta was telling him, so it was with growing impatience that Blair waited for the communication to end. 

When Jim thanked her and terminated the call, Blair couldn’t help himself. “Well? What did she say, man? Tell me, please!” 

In reply, Jim stood up and moved around the table, putting his phone away in his jeans pocket before wrapping an arm around Blair’s shoulders. Grinning down into the eagerly expectant face of his guide and lover, he said, “She’s done it, babe. Managed to persuade Ramirez to let us observe the interview if we can get there within the next hour. Apparently the captain was dead against it, but once she had impressed on him how useful my input was at the crime scene, he couldn’t really say no. There’s no way he’ll let either of us anywhere near Bergstrom at this stage, which is fair enough, but at least we’ll know first-hand what the asshole has to say for himself. 

“Thing is, babe, is that OK with you? I mean, don’t think I’m suggesting you can’t go, but can you deal with hearing what could be some deeply distressing stuff? If you think it’ll be too much, and you trust me to tell you exactly what transpires, I’ll willingly go by myself.” 

Blair shook his head vehemently at that. “No, Jim! I appreciate you’re only looking out for me, but I can do this. I _need_ to do this for mom’s sake. Whatever happens after, well, I’ll deal with it. 

“So, let’s go, huh? Let me get that crutch and let’s get out of here,” and Jim simply smiled and nodded in agreement, yet again impressed by his young lover’s resilience and determination even if the upcoming interview was liable to be painful in the extreme for his gentle and tender-hearted guide.   


\-------------------------  


**Shortly afterwards, Homicide Department bullpen:**  


It was a pale but resolute Blair who preceded Jim into the Homicide division’s bullpen, determined not to look or appear more self-conscious and pathetic than he felt. He already believed that the bullpen’s occupants must be looking askance at the dweeb who’d managed to get himself pushed around by the man who had allegedly attacked his mother, and was embarrassed enough without playing on his temporary incapacity any more than he could help. He knew it shouldn’t matter, and Jim certainly didn’t think it was a problem, but to Blair’s mind, it wouldn’t have happened to Jim anyway. No way would his buff sentinel lover have allowed someone get the drop on him so easily, end of story. 

However, when Captain Ramirez exited his office and came to greet them, accompanied by Marietta, the female inspector’s expression was of sympathy tinged with definite approval and admiration for him for turning up under such difficult physical and emotional circumstances. 

Striding over to first shake Jim’s hand and murmur a friendly word of greeting, she then turned her attention to Blair, smiling affably and placing both hands on his shoulders. Studying him carefully for a moment, but not in such a way as to make him more uncomfortable, she said, “It’s good to see you, Blair. I hope you’re feeling better after a decent night’s sleep?” 

When Blair replied in the affirmative, she nodded, her relief genuine even as she continued. “OK, then. We’re just about to begin questioning Bergstrom, so if you’re ready, how about you and Jim come with me, and we’ll get you settled in the observation room? I’m guessing you’d like this over with sooner rather than later!” 

Once in the observation room, Blair was seated in a chair close to the two-way mirror, and Jim stood beside him, his hand resting comfortingly on his lover’s shoulder. Marietta left them alone then in order to prepare for the interrogation, and Jim immediately opened his hearing to listen in on an interesting whispered conversation going on between Bergstrom and the smartly-dressed man sitting next to him who was presumably his lawyer. Since there was only a uniformed cop standing on guard by the door, the pair probably thought they were safe from being overheard, but couldn’t ever have imagined that there was an extremely interested sentinel eavesdropping next door. 

When the door of the interview room opened to admit Marietta and Duquesne, the whispering ceased immediately, and Jim glanced down to meet Blair’s desperately curious gaze, his own expression fierce and smugly satisfied. 

“What is it, Jim? Please, tell me! What were they talking about?” Blair pleaded urgently. 

Jim had no intention of keeping his lover in the dark, and he grinned down as he said, “I think it’s going to be OK, babe. Bergstrom’s lawyer has advised him to offer a full confession. Seems he wants to agree a deal with the DA’s office. Just a while longer, babe, and we should know everything.” 

The naked hope in Blair’s eyes touched Jim, and he squeezed the shoulder beneath his hand supportively. He truly hoped that he wasn’t mistaken in his assumption and that his lover would indeed have some sort of closure today without the dismal prospect of a future trial looming over his head. 

In the next room, the two SFPD cops took their seats, and as soon as they were settled, the lawyer exchanged a glance with his client, and on receiving a brief nod of permission, he immediately addressed the pair. 

“Inspectors Montiguez and Duquesne. My client has agreed to make a full confession regarding the events of Thursday last, on the understanding that you will agree to the deal made with the DA’s office. Mr Bergstrom is prepared to admit to administering Ms Sandburg with an illegal substance, but denies all charges of premeditated murder. He is prepared to accept a lesser charge of involuntary manslaughter, and of trying to pervert the course of justice by trying to conceal the evidence following the accidental death of Ms Sandburg. What do you say?” 

The two detectives exchanged a speaking glance, and Jim could swear that he saw a flash of triumph in Marietta’s eyes. He just prayed that Frank Duquesne wasn’t going to try and play hardball for the sake of it. Jim knew that both he and Blair would be glad to see Bergstrom convicted on the lesser charge if it meant saving taxpayers’ money on a murder trial, and more importantly, the extra stress such a proceeding would put on his already hurting lover. It might not sound like much in the way of a fitting punishment to some, but they both knew that any term of imprisonment was harrowing enough for the individual concerned, and Bergstrom didn’t look like the type to cope with incarceration well. 

After what seemed like forever to Blair, Duquesne turned back towards the lawyer, and somewhat grudgingly growled, “OK, Mr Madison. We’ll give your request due attention once we’ve heard what your client has to say. If we’re satisfied with his account, we’ll talk about a deal.” 

The lawyer plainly expected and accepted this conditional response, so he nodded encouragingly at Bergstrom. “Go ahead, Anton,” he murmured. “Tell them everything, just like we agreed.” 

So Bergstrom did.  


\----------------------------  


In the end it took the best part of an hour before the interview was over, Bergstrom having to clarify certain points and answer his interrogators’ pertinent questions following his confession. However, even though his baldly-stated account was enough to cause silent tears to stream unchecked down the listening Blair’s face, Jim’s senses told him that Bergstrom wasn’t holding anything back. For certain, the man was resentful and angry, particularly on account of the trace evidence he had failed to consider or adequately conceal, but there was no indication that he was lying. The fact remained that, whatever intentions he may or may not have had after administering the drug to Naomi, her actual death was indeed accidental, and it was pure panic that had made him try to cover it up. 

By the end of the session, both detectives looked fairly well satisfied, and although they would have to run it by Captain Ramirez first, it appeared that they were prepared to accept the deal. As they left the room together, Jim squatted down beside Blair’s chair and did what he had been wanting to do for a while now, and that was to take his guide in his arms. 

Once Jim had enfolded him in his warm embrace, Blair finally let go and sobbed against Jim’s broad chest, his tears both of relief and bitter pain. Pain on behalf of his beloved Naomi, who had died so suddenly and needlessly, and relief in knowing that her unwitting killer was acknowledged and would now be punished for his crimes. Under the circumstances, it was the best outcome they could have hoped for. 

Just then, the door opened and Marietta peeped in, but one glance at the pair and she stepped back out again, tactfully closing it behind her after exchanging an understanding glance with Jim over Blair’s bowed head. She had no problem with giving the two a few moments’ privacy after what must have been a traumatic experience for Blair, but as she made her way back to her desk, she prayed that today’s results would be of some future comfort for the young man.   


\--------------------------  


**Epilogue: “…is a Friend Indeed” :**  


**The loft, ten days later:**  


As Blair preceded him into their apartment, Jim carefully scanned his lover for his reactions. They had just returned yet again from San Francisco, but this time the short trip had been to attend Naomi’s memorial, and the experience had been understandably hard on his guide. However, despite his sombre and pensive expression, Blair did in fact look more relaxed now, as if the beautiful but moving celebration of his beloved mom’s life had provided him with some desperately-needed comfort and closure, lifting much of the weight of grief from his shoulders. Turning to offer Jim a knowing smile, well aware of what his doting and protective partner was doing, he murmured, “It’s OK, lover. I’m OK, really. Or will be. You want a beer? I know I could do with one.” 

“Sure, babe. I’ll just take the cases upstairs and be right back. We can unpack later.” He smiled as Blair walked over to the fridge to retrieve two bottles, his limp barely noticeable now although the cast on his wrist was still in place, and would be for a few more days yet. 

Quickly grabbing both his and Blair’s carry-on bags, he trotted up the stairs to their loft bedroom and dropped them unceremoniously on the bed, the urge to share a companionable drink with his guide and lover overriding his usual compulsion to immediately unpack and tidy away. Descending to the kitchen, he took the offered bottle and followed Blair to the sofa, where the young man settled with a sigh of contentment, the signs of stress and weariness arising from the trip gradually leaving his attractive features as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cushions. 

Sitting down alongside his lover, hip and thigh comfortably pressed close, Jim took a long swig of the cold brew and watched over his mate as Blair quietly sought his centre. It was what he needed, and Jim was happy to stand guard for as long as necessary, taking the opportunity to ponder on the events of the last few days, which had been difficult for them both, and his lover in particular.  


\--------------------------  


After Bergstrom’s confession, things had moved fairly quickly, with a deal being struck with the DA’s office which thankfully negated the need for a trial. He would serve jail time for certain, but at least wasn’t looking at life for murder, and Blair had confessed that he was glad about that, because he was certain that Naomi would never have looked for such a brutal penalty. 

However, once that decision became official, there were other, more painful arrangements to be dealt with, and decisions to be made, concerning the release of Naomi’s body and the disposition of her material possessions. Jim knew Blair had felt overwhelmed by the unlooked-for responsibility, but help had come in the form of Martha and Seb Reeves. As some of Naomi’s oldest and closest friends, they were more than happy to deal with whatever they could, and Blair’s relief and gratitude was heart-felt. Over the next couple of days, they arranged for Naomi to be taken to a funeral parlour owned by a mutual friend, and with Blair’s willing consent, they offered to orchestrate the memorial service, or celebration of her life, probably knowing better than her son what she would have wanted. 

As regards her worldly goods, when her Will was read, not unsurprisingly she had left all her money to Blair, which turned out to be a rather larger legacy than he would have ever expected. However, since Charlie had packed up her other possessions, Blair had simply picked out one or two personal items for himself, then offered Charlie and the Reeves’ the opportunity to take some mementoes for themselves. The remainder was handed over to Martha to donate to charity, which was what Naomi would have wanted. And as it happened, her belongings had included her purse and overnight bag from that fateful day, as when Bergstrom had shown the police where he had put Naomi’s body in the water, it appeared that he had hurriedly stuffed those items under a shallow, rocky overhang, believing mistakenly that they would be eventually washed away. 

With those initial essential actions dealt with, Blair and Jim had returned to Cascade, knowing that the Reeves would take care of the arrangements for the memorial and contact them once a date was set, since Jim needed to get back to work and Blair needed to check in with Rainier even if he didn’t return to teaching immediately. 

In truth, those few intervening days had been harder on both of them than they would have expected, although Blair had continually impressed Jim with his stoicism. Although his pain was undeniable, and he frequently gave in to tears while cuddled in Jim’s arms at night, he had determinedly set himself the task of tidying up his dissertation for submission, explaining to Jim that he was doing it for Naomi as much as for himself. And it had served to divert his grief and keep him occupied while Jim returned, albeit reluctantly, to work, although he had yet to return to teaching, having agreed with his Head of Department to wait until after Naomi’s memorial service. 

As it happened, Blair had submitted his paper just two days’ prior to their departure once again for San Francisco, the work dedicated to Jim and the other members of Major Crimes, and in memory of Naomi, to whom he owed so much. 

Reliving the memorial service, Jim knew that it had been hard on Blair, but both of them had been more than grateful for and impressed by the arrangements Martha and Seb had made. After a simple cremation, a celebration of Naomi’s life had been held in a favourite spot in Golden Gate Park, and it had been both well-attended and poignant, and utterly beautiful in its simplicity. Blair was deeply touched to see a spectacular wreath delivered on behalf of Simon and his friends at Major Crimes, and likewise a lovely flower arrangement organised by his colleagues and students at Rainier. 

When it was over, and Blair had thanked everyone for their kindness, and in particular Martha and Seb, he and Jim had taken the urn holding Naomi’s ashes to a point on the coast overlooking the bay, and with Jim’s arms around him for support and comfort, had released them to drift across the water, his tears falling unashamedly as he had whispered, “Bye, Mom. Sleep well, honey,” before turning in his sentinel’s arms to hug him for all that he was worth.   


\--------------------------  


Back in the present, Blair sighed deeply then opened his eyes, turning his head to meet Jim’s gaze, his eyes still sad, but with a much more genuine smile for his sentinel. “You OK, man?” he murmured, unresisting when Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him even closer. 

“I’m OK if you’re OK, babe,” Jim replied, kissing the wide, smooth brow. “You need to talk about it? How you’re feeling?” 

Blair’s smile was even warmer then, and his love for Jim was clear to see in his big blue eyes. “Thanks, Jim. For everything, man. I really don’t think I could have gotten through all this without your care and support. I know it’s been hard for you too, and I so appreciate the way you’ve looked after me and backed me up throughout. It’s over and above, man, and I’m truly grateful.” 

Jim smiled down into the earnest young face, marvelling yet again at his lover’s beauty, and so glad and grateful that this wonderful, generous and gifted soul was his and his alone. 

“It’s no more than you deserve, babe. You’ve been there for me on so many occasions, and I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. And don’t put yourself down, sweetheart. You’ve held up well too, through one of the worst experiences anyone could have. And not only that, but you’ve achieved your fondest academic award in Naomi’s name, because I know that you’ll sail through that defence, babe, and in no time at all you’ll be Doctor Sandburg. I’m so proud of you, babe.” 

Blair’s eyes filled with tears again at that, but they were tears of love and gratitude. “That’s so good of you to say, Jim. But I need to say this too. I appreciate your love for me, and your belief in me more than I can say. But it goes even deeper than that. What has helped me most of all is your friendship, man. Having you as my best friend is the most important gift I could ever have been given, man. It’s something I’ll treasure for the rest of my life, and I’ll do my damnedest to reciprocate, always. It’s like that old saying, man. You know, ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed’. It’s so true, Jim.” 

His words touched Jim deeply, and his own eyes were suspiciously moist when he took his lover’s luscious lips in a gentle, almost chaste kiss. Carefully pulling back, he smiled lovingly into the rapt gaze. “I think that’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me, babe. And I feel the same way, my guide. And I always will.” 

And so it was.   


**The End.**   



End file.
